Restraint
by Reuben deFlash
Summary: Alana Cross returns to Hogwarts as a fully fledged teacher, and she seemingly hasn't changed as she clashes with her old Potions professor. How will Snape fare against her when he can't detain her or take points anymore? Sequel to Frisson. R&R please
1. Reinforcements

_A/N: Hey readers, just a quick note to say this is a sequel to "Frisson" and while it should be the makings of a good plot without the previous story, it makes sense to read that one first for context._

_Ta very much and don't forget to review because everyone knows the tingly feeling you get from reviews._

_Reuben deFlash xxx_

Restraint

Chapter 1 – Reinforcements

"Severus? You're not paying attention to me, old friend."

The dark haired man who was draped lazily in an armchair by the fire of Dumbledore's office turned his attentions from the flickering flames and looked at the old man seated at the desk. No, he had not been listening to him; he had been thinking, but of what of was anyone's guess. Severus Snape was not the kind of person you quizzed on the inner workings of his mind.

"Sorry, Albus. I was lost for a moment," Snape replied blankly sitting up straight. "Why did you call me here exactly?"

_Here_ was in Albus Dumbledore's office; it was late night on a Saturday and Severus was tired – the dim lights of the candles that hung in the air doing nothing for his drowsiness. That coupled with the warm fire in the hearth and he was practically asleep.

"I have something of importance to discuss with you," Albus mused pushing his spectacles up his nose. "The story I just told about my Uncle Augustus was entirely irrelevant."

Something like a smile turned the corner of Snape's mouth upwards and he gestured for the man to continue.

"As you know, the new school year begins Monday," Dumbledore began. Snape rolled his eyes wearily.

"I am acutely aware," he mumbled pinching the bridge between his eyes.

"I don't know why you persist in denying your passion for teaching Severus; really, after all this time, it is quite obvious to me that you love inflicting pain on your students." Dumbledore's eyes shone with amusement but Snape didn't even crack a smile.

"And as you may also know, we're having an influx of students this term. More and more magical children are being born, and if we're to carry on, we need to expand."

"Well, the castle has always catered for space and classrooms, Professor," Snape said, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands together.

"It isn't an issue of space, Severus. The problem is that there aren't enough teachers."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"All the subjects are mandatory for first years all the way through to third. The students then choose what to carry on. Some of the subjects have to be carried on, such as Defence against the Dark Arts and of course, Potions." Albus paused, watching his friend's expression carefully. "You can't teach that many students."

Snape said nothing.

"I propose that bring in more teachers, not just for Potions but for other subjects that will struggle to cope with the boom too, and the load will be easier for all concerned."

"I am quite capable of teaching..."

"It won't be physically possible, unless you use a Time-Turner, and we know how well _they_ can turn out. You'll run yourself ragged, into an early retirement. And you're too valuable a teacher for me to lose, Severus," Dumbledore added, peering over the top of his glasses.

"But who?" Snape looked sullen now.

"We have several applicants for all posts."

"I am not happy with this," Severus said crossing his arms. "It complicates my methods. I prefer to 'act alone' as it were."

"The matter, old friend," Albus said sadly, "is non-negotiable. You _will_ work alongside another Professor."

Snape drew a deep breath and clenched his jaw. He didn't appreciate being told what to do, not even by the Headmaster,

"I would like to be involved in the application process," he said simply and shortly.

"I don't think that's wise," the headmaster said, rising. "You may be a little too critical. No one will ever match up to your ridiculously high standards."

Snape pondered Dumbledore's last sentence and raised an eyebrow. "Touché," he muttered, running a finger along his bottom lip. No one would ever be able to match his expectations of a Potions master and the thought made him smile when he looked back at how many wasted Defence Against the Dark Arts professors there had been. The idea of that happening within _his _Potions department? Laughable.

"Still," he continued, rising from his seat also. "I think I should be involved if I am to work alongside them."

Dumbledore patted his arm affectionately. "The answer is no, Severus. I will choose someone and then I will introduce them to you Monday evening, when everything is settled and before classes begin."

Snape sniffed and realised he was defeated. Albus was kind to him but the wizened man before him was resolutely firm when he wanted to be.

"Very well," sighed Snape as if he had won and had given in to _Albus'_ request. "But no one who got less than an Outstanding at NEWT _and _OWL. Understood? I won't have anyone featherbrained teaching the students. It's bad enough you let that barely qualified oaf Hagrid..."

"Ah, ah, ah," Dumbledore said, raising a finger in caution. "Kind words Severus, else I shall employee Gilderoy Lockhart again."

Snape grimaced. And then he bit his tongue.

****

"That's enough first years, settle," Snape said in a loud voice, which frightened them momentarily. This was his new group of Slytherins, and some of them looked as if they had escaped from juvenile Azkaban. There was a cousin of Draco's; easily distinguishable by the distinctive pale blond hair and the proud expression. They all looked the same at this age – only when they reached around fifth year did they get any defining features. The students didn't know fear yet, something that he would soon put to rights. Although he had always been, and would remain somewhat fond of those assigned to his house, he was never a man who was going to put up with their tomfoolery.

The matter of a new teacher had reigned in his thoughts at the weekend, but with the busyness of settling the new students into houses and the feast, Snape's anxiety and annoyance slipped from his mind. It was only now as he looked at how many students there actually were in this year that he suddenly realised the school had its work cut out.

"I believe you were asked to settle," said a calm elderly voice. Snape turned to see Dumbledore, smiling gently at them. The roomful of little people decreased form a loud clatter to a low hum of excitement and then intrigued silence. Albus had a knack for attracting attention.

"What is it Headmaster?" Snape sighed. "I have a date with my newly sorted first years."

"But of course Severus. Have you forgotten I was coming; to introduce the new potion's teacher?" Dumbledore said, gesturing to the figure standing beside him who Snape hadn't noticed. Severus stiffened. He had forgotten, shamelessly. She was looking at the first years with a fond smile before her eyes flickered to his face in a fleeting movement.

He almost gasped, if gasping was something Snape did; they were eyes he knew well.

"Miss Cross was of course a pupil here," Dumbledore started, as if she needed introduction, as if Snape wouldn't know who she was. "And she's been qualified as a teacher for a year."

"Alana?" was all Snape managed to say, in a low voice, turning his body towards them.

"Hello," she said quietly, before extending a hand, which he shook dumbly. She was a little taller, and her hair remained unchanged, aside from being tied back so it fell down her back. She wore a dark blue shirt and dark trousers. Businesslike. Stepping back she put her hands in her trouser pockets, and looked around the dungeon. "It hasn't changed," she mused.

Snape said nothing but looked at Dumbledore accusingly, who was examining his fingers. "A teacher?" he managed finally, wishing he could speak with his usual boldness but her presence had quite alarmed him.

"Yes," Alana smiled. "I studied Potions first but switched to teaching. I was...inspired."

Snape didn't show the surprise he felt. She couldn't have possibly meant him. They had spent most of their time together fighting rather than him teaching her. He had quietly wondered to himself at times what a good teacher she would have made. _But not here, _Snape thought._ Not with him!_

"Very well," he said simply. "I'm afraid I don't have time to be idle. We'll have to do the pleasantries later," he said snidely.

"Of course," she smiled warmly, looking at him with a curious expression. "Another time."

He looked at her eyes quickly. He'd forgotten how green they were. There was something in them; Snape got the distinct feeling she was _laughing_ at him. He gritted his teeth and turned his back on her. The sound of her footfalls on the dungeon floor echoed and Dumbledore excused them both before closing the door to the dungeons behind them, leaving him to his unruly first years.

"Silence!" he shouted at them, his clear voice bouncing off the walls in a sudden storm of anger and for the first time they saw a reason to fear Severus Snape.

****

Snape threw himself back into his armchair in his private quarters later that evening and groaned into his hands.

Disastrous. That was the only way of describing it. Albus had never known the nature of Severus' and Alana's relationship; had he been aware, Snape was certain he would not have hired her as the new Potions professor. They had parted well of course, but that did not exclude the fact that they had in fact kissed and had feelings for each other during her short time at the Wizarding School.

Had.

He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair and frowned. It wasn't as if he'd _forgotten _about her. He had resigned himself to the fact that on her departure they would never meet again.

Now he bloody well had to work with her. It didn't get much more awkward than that.

And it wasn't as if he could plead to Albus. Then he would have to explain why he didn't want her around. Somehow, 'she disrupts my peace' – however true that may be – would not be sufficient reason to reject someone for a job.

She had looked well; she was no longer the angular young adult from five years ago – she was woman now and he would do well to remember that. He supposed she must have done well for herself. He had requested no one who had less than an O at both sets of Wizarding examinations, and he highly suspected she was a registered Potions Master. Damn. He always knew she would be. It was futile denying her talent then and he supposed she'd only got better.

Teaching. Now he had not expected that one. He couldn't help but feel there was some ulterior motive behind her return. And suddenly all the unanswered questions about her father, and France came to his inquisitive mind. He would have to calm himself; she had only been back in his life mere hours and he was fighting the urge to pry into her life.

Snape leaned back and thought, for the first time in years, about kissing her. _About the dream_. He shuddered as flashes of his long past nightmare reared their ugly head. He kneaded his forehead with a clenched fist, fighting the headache that was already forming. Was she _married_? Or seeing someone?

Now _there _were questions that shouldn't concern him. Not then, and not now.


	2. The Reacquainting

Chapter 2 – The Reacquainting

Alana smiled to herself as she paced down the dimly lit corridor. The expression on his face had been priceless and although she had not taken the job with him in mind, she could not deny the feeling of some kind of retribution within her. He really had looked horrified upon seeing her walk into her classroom, as unbelievable that it was that he should show any kind of fear. Perhaps it wasn't fear. Alana had never been good at reading him. Perhaps it had been rage. Or disgust.

She didn't know why she was thinking about it really.

It was late evening and after the old Headmaster had done his bit by introducing her around, parading her like a shiny toy – her and the other new teachers that was – she had to make her excuses and go to bed.

Her face had fallen when she discovered it was Snape who'd made the arrangements for her room. She hadn't planned no speaking to him all that much his year. As impossible as that would be.

But the more she thought about it, the more Alana began to realise the benefits of working alongside him. She was no longer a student and so he couldn't treat her the way he might of five years ago. _Ha! _Alana thought, with a grin as the sound of her footsteps echoed on the stone pavings. _I can say what I damn well like, and there's nothing he can do about it._ The thought amused her but she was older now, and she certainly wouldn't practise that.

Reaching out to knock on the office door, she hesitated for a few seconds but, deciding to bite the bullet and that they would have to talk _sometime_, Alana brought her knuckles down onto the wood in a few quick knocks. No reply. She bit her lip and wondered if she should go in. Maybe he didn't hear her knock. It was still his office, whether she was faculty or not. Her weariness won it in the end; Alana twisted the door knob and stuck her head around the door.

"Professor Snape?" she called out, slipping into the room. The room was barely illuminated by a muted light, coming from a few candles. She was surprised his office wasn't heavily password protected and guarded by some kind of beast. His desk, much like the one in the dungeons, was cluttered with reams of parchment and books. Beside the fireplace, which contained a few dying embers, were two squashy armchairs; the rich fabric beaten and hammered with age. There was a dark oak door with a large lock on it. She supposed that must be the door that led to his private chambers. Alana ambled over to his desk, looking about, expecting him to emerge from a dark corner any second.

Snape slammed the office door to make his presence known. Walking into his office and finding her standing near his desk examining an ornament with a curious expression was nothing short of an annoying invasion. She jumped, looked up, and put it down.

"Miss..." he paused and corrected himself. "_Professor Cross_...what in Merlin's name are you doing in here?" he asked with a biting tone. "And why are you touching my things?"

She looked sheepish but, as if composing herself, straightened her back and took a deep breath. "I was looking for you. Professor Dumbledore says it was you who made my accommodation arrangements. I'm tired and I'd like to know where my room is." Her voice was clipped and professional; he supposed he had bruised her pride already by making her jump.

Snape furrowed his brow and nodded. _In his office? _And she'd barely been a teacher five minutes. _The audacity of it,_ Snape thought. He gestured to the door and looked at her as if to tell her to get out. She nodded and proceeded to walk out, brushing past him and into the corridor.

It was odd, walking beside her again and not knowing what to say. He had managed to get over the strong feelings he had for her, but still it was uncomfortable to have her near him once again. Alana looked at him and smiled. "Are you well?"

"Yes," he answered curtly.

"You haven't changed much."

"You have," he said honestly. Last time he had seen her, she had been a young woman, young nonetheless but now...now she was a very beautiful twenty-something and he didn't know what to make of it. She intimidated him and that was not a feeling he liked. In fact, he found that he liked very little about this new Alana.

"I never suspected you would teach," he said shortly. "As I recall, we were unsure what was going to happen after you left."

She looked cross for a moment. "Oh, you mean France."

"Yes."

"I didn't go in the end."

A few third years ran by, laughing. Alana looked at her feet and she looked so downcast, he didn't press the issue, though the curiosity was burning. "This is it," Snape said, changing the subject, and pointing to a wooden door. "Your things should be inside." He pulled a key from his robes. "This is the key for it, don't lose it." Alana raised an eyebrow, but responded with a smirk. Opening the door for her, he gestured inside to a fairly large study – the office part of her lodgings.

"The room is adjoined to your chambers," he said gruffly, throwing the key on to the desk. "The house elves take care of cleaning as you well know. And don't forget your robes when you're teaching," he added with a sneer looking at her outfit. She suddenly felt exposed and crossed her arms.

"Thank you Professor," she replied calmly. He didn't reply, but turned with a sweep of his robes and headed for the door.

"I would advise you charm the room immediately, lest some precocious student tries to give you some form of welcoming gift," he said blankly.

She gave a little nod of thanks and watched as her closed the door, shutting her into her new home. Sighing she sat down in the armchair, not dissimilar from his own. That hadn't been so bad after all, in the scheme of things.

****

Breakfast was the time of day Severus Snape most detested, and he especially hated it at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was the fact he wasn't a morning person; he would often stay up late and muse over his theories and notes, but everyone else seemed alive and chirpy first thing at the Wizarding School and it really irritated him. Even the teenagers, who were supposed to hate mornings, were _loud._ And yet, Albus insisted that everyone joined for breakfast, unless there was a special reason – more than likely due to his obsession with 'unity' and 'togetherness' when really, Severus Snape had not wish to be together or united with anyone.

The top table where the professors sat was elongated this year, to allow for the extra people sat at it – a move by Dumbledore that had not gone under huge gossip and speculation. The school had never had more than one teacher per subject before, and now, most of the subjects had two.

"Good morning," Minerva said to him as she brushed by to her usual seat. He nodded in her direction and continued spreading some butter upon some already cold toast. The empty chair beside him slid back and out of the corner of his eye he saw Alana's thin frame sit down and tuck herself in.

"Good morning," she said cheerily, reaching for some orange juice. He gave it a few seconds before he acknowledged her at all, and when he did it was just the same nod he had extended to everyone else. He hadn't realised how entirely awkward it might be working with her; after all, there was no denying that there had been an attraction between them five years ago, although no doubt there was not on now. At least not on his part – he could hardly speak for Alana. He wished he could just stop thinking about it, but he seemed doomed to have it on his mind. Still, Snape was sure that would pass with time. And if not, perhaps he could poison her.

"I trust your room was comfortable," he said after a while, just to be polite. He pushed his plate away from him and it vanished.

"Yes," she smiled. "I'd forgotten how comfortable Hogwarts was in general." Snape kept his musings about "damn sentimentality" to himself.

"If you'll excuse me," he said coldly, rising. "I shall see you at dinner." She looked up at him and smiled; a strange smile that only turned the corners of her mouth up as if she were fighting the urge to laugh.

"Of course, _Severus_," she said quietly. He clenched his jaw and held her stare.

"You're still an insufferable chit, Professor Cross," he muttered, and swooped away, leaving Alana in a smug humour.

**************

"Class, settle down," Alana said with a calm authority. The students did as she asked, because she was a young teacher and new to the school, so no one knew quite what to expect. If they'd have had any sense or half the boredom in their lives as Muggle children, they would have tested the waters. However, they sat down as she asked, and pulled out their textbooks and waited for her to give an indication to what they could look forward to with her for the next year.

Alana swallowed hard. She hadn't anticipated feeling as nervous as this but it was a small blessing that she hadn't had any trouble from them yet. No doubt Snape would love that; her having to call him in on her first day. No, she was determined to have control of her classes from the offset and without hateful tactics. Someone was snickering at the back of the class. She narrowed her eyes. However, _some_ tactic might have to be used.

"Turn to page nine of your textbooks, and I'll make sure you're all here first years," she smiled at them. "And Malfoy Jr," she said, casting her gaze over to corner at the blonde boy whispering to his friends. He glanced up with a cocky smile, but behind his eyes was an unnamed wavering emotion.

"Yes, Professor?" he said coyly, with a polite smile.

"Lucius Malfoy raised you, am I correct?" she said in a low voice. He nodded dumbly.

"I've heard a lot of good things from him about you." The boy started in surprise. "You see, I know Lucius _very _well, and also your cousin Draco. Sadly we've not spoken in some time, your guardian and I, but I'm looking for areason to contact him." She gave him a friendly smile and some time for him to contemplate her warning. "Don't let that reason be a report of your bad behaviour," she said quietly, continuing her smile.

He nodded. "Yes, professor."

She breathed in and exhaled happily, tapping his desk with her wand as she moved away. "Excellent. Page nine, please." She knew the boy wouldn't want to upset Lucius. With the ringleader taken down, and desperately not trying to put a foot wrong, she shouldn't have any trouble from the rest of the Slytherins. This year was going to be blissful.

**********

Something was terribly wrong.

Snape had stalked past the dungeons in which Alana was teaching and heard something most disturbing. If it had been a cry perhaps, or a shriek, he might have let her deal with it by herself. After all, she had decided to become a professor, and she would have to deal with that foolhardy decision. However, the noise prickled Severus' ears and he faltered.

_Laughter_.

"What in Merlin's name is going on in here?" he said loudly as he pushed open the dungeon door to a classroom full of students. An abrupt silence fell as thirty pairs of eyes looked upon him and his enraged countenance.

"Professor Snape," Alana said, smiling and trying not to laugh also. "It's...er...called learning." She gestured for them to pack away their things and leave. "Thank you class!" she said cheerfully.

"It _sounds_ as if you were having the Yule Ball early," he said deliberately and through gritted teeth, staring at her.

"Well perhaps you need to attune your ears to what _fun_ sounds like, Professor. It is possible to combine learning and fun," she replied with a smile that did not match her eyes. "We were discussing the effects of the Whistling Draught, which all of my students have successfully concocted. I'm sure you know it well," she added stiffly and calmly.

He looked around the room at the horrified faces. "All of them?" he said sceptically, moving closer to hiss at her more privately.

"Yes," Alana hushed back. "All of them. You sound surprised. It's a simple potion; I thought your first years would have no problem with such a menial task."

"You got a good batch," he said in a low voice. "Dumbledore obviously decided to give you an easier bunch of reprobates and me the more difficult group, knowing I could handle them, and you," he said venomously with a sweeping look at her stance, "could not."

"Or perhaps they were able to complete the potion successfully because they weren't terrified out of their minds by a cantankerous, _bitter _man who saw fit to breathe down their necks because that's the only way he could control them." Her eyebrow rose up at the end to finish her speech. "I've treated them as humans, and they've done well. Maybe you should try that," she spat quietly.

All the class could here were hushed whispers pointedly and quickly exchanging between the two, until Snape's face grew ashen and he looked at her with real hatred.

"We'll discuss this later," he said a little louder. "I have a class to go to." He caught some of them staring. "I believe you were told to go," he said vehemently at a first year who was watching them. She scampered off, and he slammed the dungeon door after her. Alana sighed, and rubbed her jaw. She really needed to control her temper, especially where Snape was concerned.


	3. Settling In

_Hey everyone! SO sorry I've been gone so long – lots of personal problems but I'm back and working on some chapters for this fic. I know a lot of you were eager for a sequel and so I'm very sorry I didn't carry it on as planned. I'm a terrible person. Anyways, enjoy this new chapter and I hope you're not too mad to review... _

_RdF_

Chapter Three – Settling In

"Impertinent! Rude and downright unprofessional!" Severus Snape shouted at Alana when she finally bit the bullet and went to see him that evening to clear the air. "How _dare _you speak to me that way, let alone in front of a class of students?"

"They didn't hear me, professor," she retorted lazily, wondering how long he'd continue with her lecture. Why she had to stand for it was beyond her, but she reminded herself that even though she was a teacher now, she still had to respectful. Even to Snape.

"That is beside the point, Miss Cross," he spat. "You may be my colleague but it'll be a cold day in hell before I take abuse such as that again - don't think I'll hesitate to go to Professor Dumbledore if you toe out of line. You're not exempt from the rules and etiquette of this school." He was tempted to add _"and you never have been"_ but this wasn't about the past.

"I'm sorry," she said, exaggerating the syllables and folding her arms. He was doing just what she expected him to; lecturing her like she was still in her school robes.

"No you're not." He recognised the expression she was pulling; the "just-give-it-a-rest" look.

"Look," she said tapping her foot. "It works both ways Professor Snape – I'll treat you respectfully...like a colleague," she added shrugging a little underneath her work robes, "If you don't try and undermine me. I am a fully qualified teacher you know. I'm a Potions Master. I tick all the boxes that you wanted for a Potions teacher. And it isn't fair to come in and humiliate me just because I used to be a student. Which you did," she said sternly. Snape gritted his teeth hard as finished pacing in a fury, regarding her coolly. "You wouldn't be this way with anyone else."

No, he supposed that was true enough. But he doubted anyone would be as much of a pain in his arse as she was. "Fine. Perhaps we should just stay out of each other's way," he suggested venomously.

"Or perhaps we could just learn to get along," Alana sighed. "Like _adults._"

She turned at that point and opened the door to his rooms, leaving him in a quiet stupor. He rolled his eyes and stormed over to his desk, sitting down with an exhausted sigh. He hoped the following year wouldn't be like this; her final year at Hogwarts had nearly killed him with the bickering and fighting. She was a stubborn chit back then, and didn't seem to have changed. He ran his hand along his jaw line pensively. She wasn't going to come under anyone's authority lightly, least of all his. Once again, he had to question what on earth Albus was thinking hiring her of all people. He wished he'd been a little less picky regarding the stipulations for the job now. He'd take Longbottom over Alana, if it meant some peace.

XXXXXX

Weeks passed with little consequence. Alana, for what it was worth, kept to his suggestion and avoided him, preferring to only converse with him when it was absolutely necessary and never on anything but work. It was better that way – for a moment, Snape had been afraid of her disturbing the life he'd built up after their last encounter but it seemed she had no desire to be "good friends" anymore. She had become fairly close to a lot of the other teachers he'd noticed; Minerva and Alana laughed over breakfast most mornings, he'd heard one of the new Herbology teachers say that a group of them were going to Hogsmeade – Alana included. She kept herself busy, and made herself popular amongst the faculty and students very quickly.

That was the most annoying thing; she seemed to be able to make time for tea with Flitwick and so he hoped she'd lapse a little in her duties. He hoped she'd be unable to control her classes and forget to mark homework whilst setting them more. And while he couldn't understand his desire to see her fail, he really wished she would on some scale. But she had a firm grasp on her social and professional lives and the students _adored _her. They lapped up every word she said with great hunger, eagerly waited for their next trip to the dungeons and a lot of the boys in school had rated her best looking teacher.

She was making Potions almost as desirable as Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Everyone raved about "Professor Cross" and how interesting Potions. He had never felt more inadequate, useless. Still, he knew that as head of the Slytherin House there were still a fair few students who preferred him to Professor Cross. Not many...but still. A few was better than none.

XXXXXX

Alana sniffed as she finished marking a first year essay and scrawled a note at the bottom on how they could improve it. Her first year class weren't the best of potioneers – the young Malfoy was by far the most gifted and he'd magically glued his palm to a rapidly heating cauldron a few days ago – but they were eager and she couldn't fault their efforts. L:aying aside her quill she exhaled deeply, giving herself a few moments before she had to make herself look presentable; she was expecting a call from Draco.

Life at Hogwarts barely gave her time to pause these days, and she realised how much she had taken her teachers for granted when she was younger. Still, the old castle was like home to her even though she'd only spent one year within its walls. It just had the sheen to it, which made everything seem the more magical. And she hadn't expected to be so liked, she thought, smiling as she glanced at the box of Honeydukes toffees one student had brought her. She had reasoned with herself, and Lucius when he'd queried why on _earth _ she wanted to teach, that she knew what teachers did that she hated and so she resolved to learn from that and be a better professor. He'd raised an eyebrow, but didn't mention Severus, even though he knew that was who she meant.

"Not disturbing you am I?"

Draco's smooth voice snapped her from her thoughts and she turned quickly in her chair to see him emerge from her fireplace in a dark suit, dusting Floo powder from his shoulders.

"Not at all. Just finished marking," she smiled, rising to greet him in a hug. "How have you been?"

"Can't complain. Got some holiday leave coming up in a few weeks so I'm off on a little trip with Hermione," he said coyly. She rolled her eyes. No one had seen _that_ one coming but it had been quite the office romance; despite initial tension in their department at the Ministry due to old prejudices, they'd managed to see past it and before long started dating. Alana had been as gobsmacked as Lucius, but neither complained. They suited each other, strangely.

"So how's the life of a Professor then?" Draco asked, strolling around her small office with his hands in his pockets. "You barely write these days, and Dad's not heard from you in a while."

She shrugged but had the good grace to look apologetic. "I underestimated how busy I'd be. But you can tell Lucius I'm very sorry. I'll visit at Christmas if he'll have me."

Draco nodded. She'd visited them frequently since her first visit and it had been the Malfoy's she had turned to when she left France. Lucius and Draco were bizarrely some of her dearest friends, and the Manor felt like more of a home than the tiny cottage on the outskirts of Versailles had.

"So, is this just a social visit or did you have some other reason for dropping by?" Alana asked with a cocked eyebrow. He looked as if he had something to say.

"Well, mostly socially," he grinned, some blonde hair falling into his eyes as he perched on the arm of the chair opposite. "But I have come to warn you – the school's going to have an inspection later this year."

"What?" she groaned.

"With all the upheaval and the new teachers, they just want to check everything's running the way it should," Draco explained. "No need to worry. Except...well, it'll probably mean some stuffy old stooge sitting in your lessons and taking notes. Or, if the Ministry can't spare them, your subject supervisors will have to write a report on you to send in."

Alana's shoulders slumped. "You do realise my 'subject supervisor' is your Godfather?" She could just see Severus Snape sat in the corner with a gleeful smile as he wrote reams of parchment on her terrible teaching methods, her bad temper, and mediocre potion skills.

He pulled a face. "Yeah but he's fair."

Alana simpered at him. "He's the _last_ person I would call fair."

"Still causing you some problems?"

"Not at all," Alana reassured him. "I just have no desire for him to report on how I'm doing, criticising me, belittling my methods just because they're not the same as his. I had a gutful of _that_ five years ago."

"I don't think he'll be unprofessional though," Draco smirked. Alana didn't bother to contradict him; she was too tired.

"Don't worry about it," her old friend sighed. "You're a good teacher Alana. Anyone can see that, and if Snape does decide to write a bad report the Ministry will check it out. They won't just take his word for it."

She knew that, but that didn't mean it wouldn't make her feel like utter rubbish. She supposed, even after all these years, she needed to feel something like approval from him. A pat on the back well done. For him to admit she was someone to be reckoned with. She was modest out loud, but in reality the results spoke from themselves; she'd graduated with O's and E's in all her subjects, she achieved her Master title in Potions in record time and had left her teaching course somewhere at the top. It bothered her that she still needed Severus Snape's seal of approval on her achievements.

"You're right," she said, so they could stop talking about it. She knew his warning her was supposed to help her prepare but she knew now that was all she would think about for the following months until Dumbledore announced it officially. "Now, have you got time for tea? Because I want to hear all about this outing last Thursday. Hermione's letter skimmed over the details but she was very vague..."

They were soon laughing as he told her how the bushy haired young woman had been practising her French in a restaurant and completely humiliated herself in front of a young waiter, but the worry was niggling at the back of her mind. She was still a new teacher, by no means perfect, and no amount of student adoration would save her from the wrath of Severus Snape.

XXXXXX

_So it's a slow start, and short too, to get you back into it. Sorry._

_And couldn't resist a bit of Dramione. So sue me. _

_R and R please!_


	4. Fears and Truths

_Little nod of dedication to one of my reviewers who has patiently awaited my return to the FF world within this chapter! A little OOC, but I borrowed your name and love of Slytherin. Sorry it's short._

Chapter Four – Fears and Truths

"We're doomed," said Chester Hodge, a wiry young man filling the position of the second Transfigurations teacher. The newly qualified teachers were all sitting in a dim corner of the crowded pub in Hogsmeade, nursing glasses of whatever they needed to quell their fears. They'd just come from a staff meeting; Dumbledore had called them all together with the news that Alana had already been privy to a few months before – that they were all going to be under intense scrutiny over the next few weeks in preparation for the real Ministry inspection in January. It was November now, giving them a little time to prepare but still none of them were easy about it. And even though she had known what was coming, that didn't make the dark smirk that passed across Snape's lips when he heard about the subject supervisor's reports any less concerning.

"We're not doomed," Alana sighed wearily, mostly trying to convince herself. "We'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Jenea Everwood, a Herbology graduate, said fiddling with the cuff of her robes. "You'll be fine. All your students love you."

"Ah," said Chester with a grimace. "But she's got Professor Snape as her subject supervisor..."

"Thank you!" said Alana, throwing her hands up. "Glad someone understands my predicament. Besides, you're all liked by your students, we've been doing well. We just have to keep our cool and prove it for the reports...and then the Ministry."

"Well, I didn't expect this when I signed up," Jenea admitted, motioning for some more Firewhisky. Chester poured it for her miserably before topping up his own glass. "I figured we'd have a school inspection one day, but it feels like we've been singled out."

"We just have to get on with it," a new Charms teacher piped up, running her fingers through her dark crop.

Chester groaned into his glass as he took a swig. "I can just see it – another repeat of last week," he began, his Irish lilt slightly slurred with his depression and his drinking. "One of my third years tried to transfigure his nose into a vegetable for Pete's sake. A butternut squash of all things. Luckily I managed to fix it without a trip to the Hospital Wing, and without calling for Minerva's help. But kids are so damn unpredictable," he cursed, frowning and pushing his glasses up his nose. "And Merlin knows it'd be my luck to be reviewed when I have my first years. Some of the Slytherins are precocious little gits...no offense," he added, glancing at Jenea.

"No it's true," she sighed. "I remember being one."

"When do the reviews start again?" Alana asked, slamming her empty glass down and gathering her things. It was time to head back, and they couldn't wallow in their self pity forever. Besides she had essays to mark.

"Next Monday," sighed Chester.

"I hate Mondays," Jenea said winding a dark green scarf around her neck.

Alana cocked an eyebrow and heaved a sigh in agreement. With what was coming on this following Monday, she found herself hating them too.

XXXXXX

No one was more surprised to see Lucius Malfoy stalking the corridors of Hogwarts later that evening than Severus Snape himself but there he was, the unmistakeable blonde coming down a flight of stairs that lead to the dungeons, removing some leather gloves as he strode towards his friend with a broad smile.

"Lucius," Snape said with a frown. "You didn't let me know you were coming to visit."

"Just a fly-by I'm afraid. I came to speak to the headmaster and thought I'd call in. Any chance of a warm drink?"

Severus nodded and gestured for him to follow him back to his office.

"You might consider redecorating," Lucius teased lightly, taking a seat in an armchair. "This room has been the same dark, dingy way since you first moved in."

Snape didn't respond to his old friend's jibes and flicked his wand to produce a pot of something hot for them both, and when he handed Lucius the cup, the other man took it gratefully. Snape sat down in his own soft chair and heaved a weary sigh.

"Not keeping you up am I?"

"Not at all. It's good to see you."

"And how has school been so far this term?" Lucius inquired, stretching back.

"The same as usual. Nothing of consequence has happened – I've barely noticed the supposed boom of students, but I suppose that's because of the new teachers."

"Ah yes," Lucius smiled. "That's why I went to see Dumbledore. Finalising some details on the impending inspection. Are you looking forward to your chance to be critical?"

Snape narrowed his eyes in a reproachful glare making Lucius smirk. "Oh come on – don't tell me you're not relishing in the opportunity to be _allowed_ to sit and make some poor NQT squirm?"

Snape didn't respond immediately. "Don't act coy – I know you know the new Potions teacher is Alana Cross." He was aware that his ex-student, now colleague was still in contact with the Malfoy family. Only the other week his godson Draco had stopped by after visiting her.

"Yes. That's precisely why I asked. Don't be too hard on her," Lucius said with a stern look.

"I will be professional Lucius, as I'm called to be. If she's a good teacher, I'll have nothing to report."

Lucius made a low noise of agreement at the back of his throat as he finished sipping some tea. "And how has it been? Working with her?"

Snape looked at him with a pensive expression and sat back with his cup. "Uneventful."

"Really?" the blonde man asked with a cocked eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "After witnessing some of your spats when she was your student, I was expecting fireworks and murderous threats now you had no authority over her."

Snape smirked. "Well, we have very little to do with one another, but yes there were some brief...'fireworks'...at the start of the year. It settled down."

Lucius surveyed his friend carefully as if he could suss him out with one swift glance but Severus wasn't easy to read at the best of times, and he was being so delightfully cagey about the whole thing it just begged more questions.

"Is it not difficult?" Lucius probed further, "After...you know..."

Lucius had been the only other soul privy to the knowledge of Snape's past attraction to Alana, and Snape had never discussed with him the events that had unfolded after they had left Malfoy Manor five years ago. He had told him nothing of the kiss, or the mutual confession from the girl. And he doubted Alana had told anyone either.

"Not at all. I _mean_ that," Snape assured him, without a trace of emotion in his voice apart from sincerity. "Yes, I once felt something for her – you know that. But she and I are both adults now; we've both moved on. I really don't view her as anymore than a colleague. Of course, I would have much rather she _weren't _here. It was a little awkward at first, I'll admit. She was certainly the last person I expected to walk through the door."

"Oh. I thought perhaps..."

"Yes, I know what you thought." Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes over Lucius' imaginings of a reunion, now she wasn't his student. The man really was a sickening romantic at heart. "But there's no danger of that. It must have been a passing thing – coupled with the amount of time I was forced to spend with her – but I'm not suffering from the same affliction now. I've laid it to rest Lucius," he reiterated.

Lucius nodded thoughtfully and said nothing more on the matter, finishing his tea slowly. They talked a little more about business, Draco and how he was getting on at the Ministry, before Lucius rose and excused himself, saying it was late and he needed to be up early for a meeting tomorrow.

"You're welcome at the Manor anytime," Lucius said before slipping out the door. "Whenever you next get a holiday. But I shall probably see you before anyway, with the inspection hanging over your head."

Snape rose not long after the dungeon door shut and cleaned up the tea things quickly. He had unconsciously been prepared for an assault from Lucius but thankfully it was over, and he didn't have to concern himself with expecting it from anyone else. He had been as truthful with the man as he could be, without opening up and letting Lucius just delve around in his psyche. Yes, of course it was difficult; he'd convinced himself he was in love with the stupid girl back then. And she wasn't that girl anymore. But the way he felt about her now boiled down to little more than faint annoyance, and if he was truly honest, chagrin over the whole thing. He couldn't deny an acute sense of mortification when she walked in that first day.

No, he wasn't looking for a reunion, he thought as he dimmed the flickering candles with a wave of his hand and headed to his rooms. He was indifferent to her now; he didn't like her particularly and he didn't hate her either. But that didn't mean he couldn't 'make her squirm' over the reports. She worried about that sort of thing, especially if it questioned her ability. She was a proud sort, typically Gryffindor – she needed to be adored and praised. He had no doubt how uncomfortable she'd be with him watching her every move, writing down every mistake. And he certainly wasn't going to make any sort of effort to put her at ease.


	5. Judgement

Chapter Five - Judgement

Alana spun on her heels as the dungeon door opened a Professor Snape walked in. Monday had come and no amount of wishing could have stopped that. And here he was, set face, ready with a book and a quill, and no doubt a mind eager to pick out all her faults and failings as a professor. She'd vowed to be more confident, and she was on the surface but he still had that irritating knack of making her insides feel like a washer dryer. He could potentially paint a black mark against her name if he saw fit to, and truth be told, she couldn't deduce which way he was going to go. He had always been unpredictable.

"Professor," she said cheerfully, straightening the cuffs of her robes. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he said blankly, glancing around the room - which she had already prepared for the lesson. He cleared his throat. "Let me explain how this will work. I will observe your lesson from the back with very little imput, though I may take a random sample of opinions from students. You're not permitted to acknowledge me, or draw me into a discussion, apart from to make the students aware as to why I'm here - do you understand?"

"Perfectly," she replied, a little stunned.

"Very well," he sniffed, storming to the back of the room, producing a chair for him to sit on. "Your first years should be here any moment if I'm not mistaken."

Alana blinked and stared at him as he opened his journal and began to write. _Merlin, _she thought with some exasperation, _he's writing something already. _"Professor?" she said folding her arms. He glanced up looking a little disgruntled that she'd spoken.

"What is it Professor Cross?"

"This report...you will be -"

Her sentence was disturbed by her students filtering into the room noisily. It didn't take long for them to notice another presence besides their usual teacher and the animated chatters descended into a curious silence as they sat down. "Morning class," Alana began with a smile, having recovered from the frosty interaction with Snape. "You've probably noticed we have a visitor today. Professor Snape's just here to make sure I'm doing my job properly, so don't feel nervous - he may ask some of you some questions, but they're nothing to worry about."

Severus watched the shoulders of most of the students relax as she spoke; her voice appeared to have a soothing effect on them. But as she smiled, he had to wonder whether she was reassuring them, or herself.

"Last week we talked about classifying potions and testing them," she began. "Of course it's important to test each potion, even if you've made it a hundred times before, but how? What are we looking for?" She threw the question out to the class and immediately, hands shot up across the room.

"Jenson?"

"Viscosity, Professor."

"Meaning?" Alana queried further.

The petit blonde girl paused. "Meaning how thick it is - like not too runny?"

"Good - five points - you don't want your Sleeping Draught to be like treacle. Anybody else?" She pointed at someone.

"Um, colour?" offered a Hufflepuff who had red hair to match a Weasley. Perhaps it was a Weasley, Snape thought, considering the expanse of the family.

"Yes...another five points. Colour is _very _important," she explained with a slight smirk." Snape's mind cast back to a particular potion she'd made under his tutorage that was completely the wrong colour, because she'd not followed the instructions, mostly because of her temper. Was she thinking about that too, he had to wonder as he watched the smile cross her face. "What about you Ollie?" she asked a pudgy boy who was just listening while everyone else was taking notes.

"I don't know Professor," he shrugged.

"Oh come on," Alana smiled, leaning against her desk. "You got full marks on your essay so I know you know it."

The boy's cheeks flushed with pride. "Consistency? Maybe?"

"Excellent - five points to you as well. Viscosity, storage temperature, opacity, colour, consistency, taste, smell and toxicity," she said, pacing and ticking them off on her fingers as she reeled them off. "These are the eight categories when testing and classifying potions and you need to remember them. Today each of you is going to brew a potion, and use those categories to classify...and _identify_...what I've given you. Kind of like a potion's whodunit," she said wryly, earning a laugh from the class. "But here's the hitch - you've all got something different...so you can't cheat Porthos," she added, cocking an eyebrow at the Malfoy boy who had been looking fairly smug until she said that. "You have to work these out for yourselves and present your findings to each other in small groups. Of course there are points galore for whoever manages to complete the task successfully," she shrugged as if it were no skin off her nose should they get it right or not, "but I'm not going to give out points for anything less than one hundred percent accurate, so _really _think it through."

The class murmured amongst themselves and started to prepare themselves for making; Snape watched as the girls tied their hair back and the boys passed oak handled knives around. The whole picture was distinctly _Alana Cross_, he noted, scribbling down some of his thoughts as he had been the whole time she was talking.

She was moving around each table now, swiftly checking they each had what they needed. "Everything's set out for you – if you need help, raise your hand...Edmund, what's the rule about eating in here..._thank you..._your hour starts now." She flicked her wand and an egg timer at the front of the room turned upon her desk.

Alana took a deep breath as she continued to walk around watching over them; she _felt _as if she was doing well, but of course that was no indication. She'd resolved not to make any sort of unusual fuss for Snape – just to simply teach her class as she would if he were not in the room. She'd been planning this exercise anyway, and in her limited experience it was something students enjoyed – the chance to think for themselves and have a little independence. Plus, all children liked a bit of healthy competition and praise and points were a big incentive to do well. She'd seen Snape write something out of the corner of her eye as she'd given Ollie five points and it had made her swallow hard. Surely he couldn't pick her up for something like that?

She watched him hovering beside a girl called Fiona – a Slytherin who seemed to be sailing quite nicely as she prepared her potion – asking her questions in a low voice. This was Severus Snape – of course he would, she realised with a sigh.

XXXXXX

"Well," Alana breathed as the last of the cauldrons were magically cleaned away and the students sat on the stools with their books in their arms ready to leave. "I guess its homework time..." Even she couldn't contain the groan from the students. "Write up a detailed essay on your particular potion, focusing on the eight classification categories. One and a half scrolls, _minimum_," she said, as their faces fell. "For next Monday. I think that's pretty fair. You're dismissed."

The sound of scraping chairs filled the room and they all began to giggle and chatter before they were out of the door, most of them saying goodbye as they passed. Alana smiled at them all gratefully – after all, none of them had toed out of line for the whole two hours. "Great work today Ollie," she said quietly as the chubby boy walked by. He was really quick good at Potions but his confidence stopped him from being as bold as he could be during class. "You figured out your task pretty quick."

"As soon as I smelt it, I knew it had to be the Sneezing Potion," he replied awkwardly, as if he were embarrassed for doing so well.

"See you next lesson," she said, waving him on.

She exhaled a deep breath as the door shut and glanced over, hands on hips, to see Severus still writing in his book. He was frowning, but she couldn't read his expression at all.

"So...how'd I do?" she asked carefully, treading the water.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you at this time," he replied without looking up.

"Ah, right. Of course," Alana said nodding. "Regulations. Well, just let me know...when you can..."

"Of course," Snape interrupted, rising and for the first time she saw that he was wearing an amused smirk – one that didn't at all make her comfortable about the outcome of her report. "I wouldn't keep you waiting any longer than necessary." And with that, he swept out of her classroom, leaving her stunned and with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

XXXXXX

"Urgh – it was awful, just awful," Chester cried after dinner that evening, as he, Alana, Jenea and the Charms teacher (who Alana now knew was called Ruth) all left the Great Hall. "It was all going so well, until one of the little twerps decided to transfigure his teapot into something that could _bite _for Pete's sake. How he managed it when he usually can't tell which up a wand goes, I'll never know. A wasted lesson, and an actual trip to the hospital wing," he groaned, yanking off his spectacles. "And I got marked down further for swearing at them. McGonagall said she couldn't justify it, even in the circumstances."

"Mine went well," Jenea sighed contentedly. "Surprisingly so, considering I had Gryffindors and Slytherins. I figured we couldn't go wrong with a lesson on healing plants; if anyone decided to skewer someone else with the shears, we'd have everything we needed right there." She grinned. "Sprout was pleased anyway."

"I had a bit of trouble controlling the class," Ruth admitted. "But the students were nice when Flitwick interviewed them. He said I just needed to toughen up a bit."

"Hang on, just a tick," Alana said, laughing slightly but halting in her tracks with a frown. They all turned to look at her. "How do you guys know how you did?"

"Our supervisors gave us a break down after the lesson. They were supposed to." Ruth said, matching her frown. "How do you _not _know how you did?"

"He didn't tell me! Professor Snape told me that he wasn't at liberty to discuss it with me at..." Alana trailed off and closed her eyes, muttering a cuss word under her breath. "_That man!_"

Jenea let out a low whistle and pushed her round glasses up her nose. "What are you gonna do?"

"March over there and give him a piece of my mind," Alana hissed as she pushed past them and stormed to the dungeons. It wasn't the first time she'd wanted to kill Snape, and she doubted it'd be the last.


	6. Deja Vu

_Hey guys - sorry, another long wait, but this is a Snape/Alana centric chapter. From this point on they're probably going to start interacting some more. After all, they've been avoiding each other. Hope you likey, and as always reviews are appreciated._

_I don't own HP. _

Chapter Six – Déjà Vu

Snape concealed his great surprise as Alana barged into his office not long after he'd settled himself there, without knocking and without waiting to see if he was otherwise engaged. But one swift look at her told him she wouldn't much appreciate a lecture on etiquette and politeness right now; she looked livid. Her teeth were set in a tightly clenched jaw, her fists shaking by her sides, and with her hair down and her brow knitted into a deep frown, she looked almost wild.

"Good evening, Professor Cross," he said smoothly, looking back down to the book he had been about to read, barely giving her a second look. "Is something the matter?"

"_I'm not at _liberty_ to discuss it with you at this time_..." Alana sneered. He paused with a frown, keeping an even temper, knowing it would frustrate her.

"It's all good and well repeating back something I said to you, Professor Cross, but I'm afraid you're going to have to elaborate if you want me to understand you properly."

"Don't act smart. What the hell are you playing at? You were supposed to give me a break down of my report after the lesson and instead you feed me some cock and bull story about 'regulation'..."

"Ah, actually Professor Cross," Snape interrupted. "I never said a word about regulation. You assumed that was why I withheld your report."

"It doesn't bloody matter either way!" she shouted. "You were supposed to tell me but instead you're playing this stupid game."

"Game?"

Alana gave a cry of exasperation; how could he act so coy? "Yes – look, this whole report...inspection business might seem like a joke to you, or maybe just a huge inconvenience. Believe me - the people on the receiving end feel very much the same way. And while you might get some _enjoyment_ out of toying with me, and making me sweat over the whole business, this is my career Snape. This is all I have and I want to do it – so please can you put aside your pettiness and actually judge me according to my capability rather than whether you actually like me or not?"

"If you think the object of my actions was to toy..."

"Of course it was," she snapped, hands on hips as she started another rant. "I knew the second you were given the damn assignment you'd find some way to make this hellish for me. You haven't changed a bit! You're as much the sadistic git today as you were five years ago and...and it isn't fair!"

Her words rung out in the dungeon. Snape clenched his jaw, not moving for the moment as he chewed over what to do next, but once he had decided, he rose quickly, opened his drawer in a fluid movement and pulled out some papers. Alana watched him, a little startled as he moved around the desk wordlessly, his anger _rolling_ off of him in waves, and waited for the bite.

"Your feedback, Professor Cross." When she stared at it, unsure, he handed it to her roughly. "Go ahead – read it. I refuse to talk through it with you. You're a grown woman," he added, sitting down once more, and picking up his book he had cast aside.

"Thank you," she snapped back, wondering why she didn't feel in the least bit triumphant. She had asserted herself and gotten what she wanted, and _Merlin_ it had felt good to call him a git to his face. But for some reason she couldn't shake the feeling that he had let it go too easily, and the words on the papers in her hands would not make her feel alright.

"Return them when you're done," he added, not looking up and talking so coldly Alana shivered. Gaining her resolve, she stormed out with only a little less vigour than she had come in and headed to her rooms to read the dreaded report.

XXXXX

Alana groaned as she lay on her bed and pushed the papers aside. It was worse than she'd feared. A knock at the door made her lift her head, and called out for them to come in. Jenea poked her head around the door and grinned. "How'd the showdown go?"

"I don't even want to think about it," Alana muttered, nursing her temples with her fingers, eyes closed.

"That bad, huh?"

"That _good_, you mean," Alana replied, the sick feeling in her stomach swelling. "It's a glowing report. And in order to get it, I called him a 'sadistic git' and shouted at him. I accused him of playing mind games, and then he handed me this, knowing full well I'd have to eat my words."

"Ouch," Jenea grimaced, perching on the bed and picking up the papers. "Let's see." She scanned over the report quietly for a few minutes, pulling a few faces and making a few indicative noises until she set them on her lap and looked over her glasses at Alana. "You know you're going to have to say sorry right?"

"Story of my life, as far as Professor Snape is concerned," Alana grumbled, but Jenea didn't push for answers, even if she wanted some. She could see it wasn't the time.

"I'll go in a minute," Alana concluded, sitting up and tucking her hair behind her ears. "Better get it over and done with." Jenea nodded wisely and rose.

"Let me know how it goes," she said, going to the door. "I reckon at this stage either one of you could end up in the Hospital Wing. Snape looked _furious _when I passed him in the corridor not long ago, so you obviously ticked him off."

"Thanks for the reassurance," Alana sniped sarcastically. "Really helping."

Her friend smiled and closed the door behind her as she left, leaving Alana to throw herself back into her bed and pick up her report again. It was possibly the tenth time she'd read it, just to be sure. She'd prayed it was a hoax, a fake one, when she first looked it over; the sick feeling of dread had trickled slowly down her back as she took in the words. She almost wished he _had_ written a terrible one. _Professor Cross has a talent for engaging the attentions of the class, _she read, hearing his voice. _The success of her method is most likely due to the fact she combines the theory with challenges and activities that strike a chord amongst her students. She encourages pupils, and praises them where it's due. I saw a great amount of respect and admiration in her students for her. _It went on in the same fashion. He had documented his conversations with the people he had spoken to. Of course there were few remarks regarding her, but they were little more than improvements. For instance, he'd suggested she hold a test at the end of each week to see if the students had taken in what she'd been teaching, but he'd gone on to say that it would prove beneficial for her to see the results of her efforts. And he also seemed to have a problem with how many points she gave out, but then, he was head of the Slytherin House and Gryffindor were already nearly double points ahead of them.

It was no good, she concluded, rising and sorting herself out. She would have to make amends, quickly. She straightened up the papers, and checked herself in the mirror – she could see the childish fear of having to admit she was wrong to her old Professor behind her eyes. Just like old times. She only hoped he wouldn't notice it.

XXXXX

"Ah, Professor Cross," Severus said coolly when she appeared in his office only a few hours later, slipping through the door rather than storming through it as she had before. "Ready for some humble pie?"

She winced at how cold he was being, but then that was to be expected. She paced over to his desk and handed him the report, clearing her throat and standing up very straight when he took them from her. "I've come to apologise."

"I should think you have," he said slowly, pronouncing each sound of each word harshly.

Alana opened her mouth to speak, paused and held her tongue for the moment. When she had evened her tone and breathing a little, she tried again. "Look, I lost my temper and shouldn't have. I shouldn't have called you a..." He glanced up and she lowered her gaze. "_But_ you shouldn't have kept this from me."

"I should have known you'd find some way to shift the blame, instead of truly admitting you were wrong," Snape smirked.

Alana ignored him. "But you really had no reason to, after all it's not like it was..."

"I kept it because the original copy was in a rough notebook. I copied it out so it was legible and orderly, because I thought you'd appreciate being able to read it," he interjected in a low voice. "Not because I had any desire to 'toy' with you."

"Then why not tell me so," she reasoned, even though that sounded fairly reasonable to her. She remembered his spidery scrawl from when he marked her essays. When he didn't answer she pointed a finger at him. "Because you wanted to make me suffer, just for a bit! Admit it – I've said I'm sorry. The least you can do is take some responsibility."

"So I can ease your conscience? Not likely. You should have learnt to hold your tongue in these past five years." If she could use the past against him, he would do the same, he thought to himself, watching her eyes narrow at him.

Alana fumed. "Fine."

"Wonderful."

"Just great."

"Is that all?" Snape asked. "I'm busy."

She stuck her tongue in her cheek. "I don't give too many points." A muscle twitched in Snape's jaw at her words, as he fought a smirk.

"You must allow me some criticism," he said, his voice softening even if he wouldn't smile. "There was little else I could fault. But I should know by now that anything less than one hundred percent isn't good enough for you."

Alana smiled to herself – that was true enough, but she was happy with this. She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry I lost my temper. And...thank you, for not tearing me to shreds on the report," she said, begrudgingly, knowing how easily it could have gone the other way.

"Whatever you might think of me, Professor Cross," Snape said, looking up and sitting back. "I don't tend to ruin people's careers for the sheer hell of it. I had no reason to give you a bad report; you proved to me that you're a capable teacher. Whether you've reached the rank of 'capable human being' yet is another matter." Alana rolled her eyes. "But seeing as that clearly doesn't affect your ability to lead a class, I can't hold it against you."

"Thank you."

"You've insulted me, and shouted at me, and now apologised and grovelled. Your usual routine is complete. So goodnight," he said finally, indicating he wanted her to go. She didn't deserve the praise he'd given her, but then as she pointed out, he hadn't been completely blameless. Not that he was going to admit it aloud.

Alana smiled at his joke, even though he had delivered it so dryly, it was quite possible he was having another go at her.

"And for the record," Snape said stiffly as she was about to leave. "You might want to curb the reward system. You _do_ give out far too many points."

Alana took a deep breath. "Goodnight, Professor Snape," she uttered firmly.

XXXXX

He hadn't exactly forgiven her, but nor was he intending to hold a grudge. He was determined to be the adult in this whole awful mess. He had expected something of a commotion over his withholding her feedback, but he hadn't expected her to get so damn _nasty _about it. Still, it was better to know what she really thought of him, Snape reasoned as he closed his book not long after she'd left. Even if it only amounted to a 'sadistic git'. He winced a little as he remembered how she'd yelled that at him. She'd always had that temper, that spark – he'd quite liked it once – but now he realised that without the barriers of student decorum, she was free to do and say what she liked. And that might include things she had always wanted to say to him. Alana had been holding out on him five years ago but she wasn't now.

Still, he hoped she'd been sufficiently humbled by her mistake to not launch at him in such a fashion again. But he doubted it. They'd probably come to blows again soon. It seemed to be the way they worked. He'd only been half joking when he spoke of her 'routine'; their entire acquaintance had amounted to either one of them apologising, sometimes both, after a heated argument. They seemed to have two personalities that were destined to clash.

Perhaps it was a good thing that their little...he struggled for a word of what to call it..._attraction..._hadn't amounted to anything more than a kiss and a few tender words. If they'd have carried on with a relationship, they'd have only ended up fighting like two old crows, or one of them would be sent to Azkaban for the other's murder.

Snape checked himself mentally as he gathered his things and headed to his chamber. Why was he thinking about it? What did it matter which way things had gone? The damn witch had a way of getting into his thoughts, be them good or bad, and it wasn't appreciated. Not five years ago, and certainly not now.


	7. Tis The Season

_A/N: Sorry it's a relatively short one, but the next is up soon, and it'll be Christmas Day at Hogwarts! Yay! I'm just building up their nice adult friendship. No more fighting...for now..._

_As always please review – it's the only thing that keeps me going! I am so grateful for all the reviews I've received so far. They really brighten up my day._

_RdF _

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Chapter Seven – Tis The Season

Time seemed to go much too quickly for the new teachers and before they knew it, it was December and the threat of the real inspection in January was looming over their heads. Still, there was Christmas and New Year to get out of the way, and something of the holiday spirit seemed to have infected the hearts of all the students and faculty. Alana remembered fondly her first and only Christmas at Hogwarts, and she was surprised how good it made her feel to be back in the castle when the decorations first appeared. The Great Hall was nothing short of decadent every day, with holly wreaths, red velvet ribbons and golden candles hovering above each House's table. Much to the students delight, it was a particularly cold winter and there hadn't been a day since mid November where it hadn't snowed. It wasn't unusual to see students still wearing their earmuffs indoors after having been outside with Hagrid, traipsing snow into the hallways. They were giddy with excitement and it was infectious.

It was Friday and a group of first years in normal clothes ran past Alana as she walked slowly down a stair case, nearly knocking her over. "I know you're excited about going home – but try not to kill me, or anyone else in the process," she joked weakly. They all smiled apologetically and ran off once more, barely heeding her words as they darted up a staircase to their common room before it started moving.

She shook her head and carried on; going home for Christmas sounded like a wonderful idea, but her father still wasn't speaking to her and refused to have her in the house. Her brother was spending his first Christmas with his new wife and baby daughter, and while he'd be happy to have her, Alana just didn't feel like intruding. The Malfoy's had extended an invite – after all she'd spent her first Christmas away from home with them, then gone to Hermione's for the following three, and then back to the Malfoy's last year. Christmas with Lucius and Draco was a lavish affair, but the holiday was much more like the ones from her childhood at Hermione's. Her parents were Muggles, as was Alana's mother, and so Muggle tradition had been a big part of Yule time for them.

She supposed that Hermione might go to the Malfoy's this year, seeing how she and Draco were getting along so well. It might make her feel a little less awkward to have a female friend there, Alana reasoned, heading to the dungeons to freshen up before dinner. Not that it was ever very awkward at Lucius and Draco's – they simply treated her as extended family. She just missed home, she realised with a sigh, and no amount of luxurious food or friendly company would make her miss it any less. Her mother hadn't written in a while, but her last letter had mentioned that even though he was missing Alana, her father refused to budge on his ban.

She had tried to make France work at first, but the resentment over the whole thing got too much. She could say what she like about Snape, but he had caused her eyes to open during their time together, and when she returned to be her father's apprentice, she realised very quickly that she was better than that. It hadn't gone down well – Algernon treated it like some kind of bitter betrayal, and she had not stayed long after that.

Alana pulled out a piece of paper and a quill when she got back to her room. Penning her letter would be difficult, but she didn't feel like being around anyone this Christmas. She didn't need a reminder that she couldn't be with her parents, and that everyone else around her had somewhere to go. It wasn't as if she was completely forgoing the season – she wasn't Ebenezer Scrooge – it was just such an effort to pretend all the time. She knew it would disappoint her friends, but she could still visit at some point. Besides, there were students at the castle who couldn't go home for the holidays. And it wasn't as if she had nothing to do – she had essays to mark, and lessons to plan. To be honest, it had been five years since she'd had a Hogwarts Christmas, and the prospect of celebrating Christmas Day in the school made her feel like a child again.

XXXXX

Monday brought a new sort of quiet to the school; half the student populace had gone, leaving the shouts of those remaining behind to echo even louder in the corridors. It was good to be able to hear yourself think, Alana mused, pacing through the library slowly, relishing the stillness. There were usually students crammed at the study tables, bent over in nooks with their head in a large battered volume of Advanced Transfigurations. The only people in there were herself, Madame Pince and a couple of stragglers, but even they were leaving. Pince saw her coming and smiled.

"Professor Cross," she said warmly, sweeping over in festive robes. "I found the book you were asking about." She went under her large oak desk to get it, and produced it by slamming it down with a heavy thud.

"I had hoped you would, though I'm sure I could have found it somewhere," Alana smiled appreciatively, tucking some stray hair away from her face. "I tried Flourish and Botts, but they don't tend to stock older books anymore."

Pince sniffed with a look of disapproval. "You don't have to tell me, Professor. It's all about making galleons these days. But, never mind, I found it for you. Is it for your NEWT class?"

"Well, to a degree, and for some personal research I'm hoping to look at over the holidays," Alana explained, making conversation as she signed the borrowing form with a long quill and handed it back.

"Oh, are you staying?" Pince asked.

"Yes. Are you?"

"Oh I stay every year. You'll be coming to the staff Christmas party of course?"

Alana raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I hadn't realised there was one. I only decided to stay a few days ago."

Pince smiled and took the forms from her. "We have one every year, usually on Christmas Day. In the evening. Be sure to come," she added. "It's usually a lot of fun. Minerva makes this fabulous mulled wine."

Alana nodded. "Sounds interesting." She smiled at the thought; she worked alongside her old professors' well, she'd seen them enjoying themselves at feasts countless times. But this was behind the scenes, away from the eyes of pupils. It gave her a strange feeling - like she might be spying on them and seeing something she wasn't supposed to.

Not that she could imagine any of them getting blinding drunk and dancing on tables.

"Are you headed back to the dungeons?" the older woman asked, busying herself with tidying her desk and breaking Alana from her thoughts.

Alana glanced at her as she picked up her book and held it to her chest. "Yes, why?"

"I was wondering if you'll see Professor Snape – only I have a book here for him too."

Alana contained her grimace. "Er, sure. If it'll save you a trip."

"Oh thank you. It's such a trek down to his rooms and well, I'm not getting any younger." Pince turned around to get the book she was talking about and handed it to Alana. "There you are."

Alana didn't even look at the book title as she took it and placed it on top of her own. She'd managed to avoid him since she'd been made to swallow down that particularly bitter slice of humble pie, but as she had to constantly remind herself, they were colleagues and that meant occasionally having to talk. It'd be good practice. He was also staying at the castle for the holidays so that meant she'd probably have to be sociable with the man eventually, in the spirit of the season. Goodwill to all men, and all that jazz. Especially if he'd be at the staff Christmas Party. Alana frowned. _Would_ he be there? Drinking mulled wine with the rest of them? Somehow she couldn't picture it, but she supposed she'd find out.

She just had to be careful not to do anything monumentally stupid during these few weeks that would give him any ammunition. If she could just do that, she had every faith that they could get along just fine. They'd managed it in the past. They could get along quite well when they put their mind to it.

She just had to hope he would put his mind to it, just as she had.

XXXXX

"Come in," barked Snape when he heard the knock at the door. He was marking essays, trying to complete as many as he could so that the entirety of his holiday was not spent devoted to the reprobates he had to endure day in and day out. A disturbance wasn't welcome and even less so when he saw it was Alana, stepping in with something in her hands. Still, at least she had knocked, which was a vast improvement.

"Madame Pince asked me to give you this," she said blankly, handing him a book. He stared at it, glanced at the title and nodded before putting it on top of the pile of books he already had on his desk.

Looking up at her, he flashed Alana a brief, rather blank smile. "Thank you." She looked a little tired, he noticed; the dark lines under her eyes were deep, she'd lost weight around her face, and her dark hair was tied back into a scruffy plait. She looked dreadful, he realised, setting aside his quill with a little shock. Was she really that worried about the inspection? Snape frowned, wondering what he could possibly say that she wouldn't turn into a slur against her character. He decided to leave it and bent back over his work. "You're spending Christmas at the castle?"

"Yes."

"Lucius is disappointed," Snape stated.

Alana shrugged – she'd known he would be. "I'm sure he'll get along just fine without me. I...would have thought you'd have gone."

"No," Snape said simply, without elaborating. He had been invited, but he wasn't going to tell her that. Neither was he going to tell her that he had said no to Lucius simply because he assumed she _would_ be going. He had come around to the idea of working with her, and could tolerate her professionally, but sat opposite her over a plate of roast turkey? As he had explained to Lucius, they weren't good friends, and their relationship was somewhat tense. Who wanted that kind of awkwardness at a Christmas dinner?

He had gotten another letter this morning telling him she had decided not to go after all, and so the offer was still there, but he didn't feel like going. It'd be easier to avoid each other's company in a place the size of Hogwarts. Besides, if she needed his help with regards to the inspection, it'd be better to look at it here, where they worked.

"Anyway, I just came to give you that. Enjoy your marking." She paused as she turned away and let out a short, disbelieving laugh which caused him to lift his head sharply to see what had made her do so. She was pointing at his bin and bent down to retrieve something from it, reappearing with the red satin box he had disposed of earlier that day. He grimaced and waved a hand.

"Put them back," he commanded.

"What are _these_?" she laughed, lifting the lid of the chocolates and abandoning the calm collected demeanour she'd had when she walked in; in fact, the cloud of worry that had been on her face before seemed to have vanished momentarily. Oh, the lines were still there, but her mood had lifted. At his expense, he realised with some disdain. What a surprise.

"A Christmas gift from an overly amorous student," he said, disgruntled. "I'm dreading Valentine's Day, but hopefully the phase will be over by then."

Alana laughed again. It was _good_ to hear her laugh, he thought. "They really went to town," she said, peeping inside. He tried to take them from her, but she dodged him and closed the lid.

"I'm keeping these," she smiled, tapping the top with a long finger. "You'll only chuck them away."

"I don't want or need them," he snapped. "Why would I keep them? They're utterly ridiculous."

She read the card quietly to herself. "This is actually quite sweet," she mused, ignoring his eye roll and simper shot in her direction. "So you have an admirer?"

"Yes. I have quite the female following this year," he admitted dryly.

Alana paused and stared at him. "You do?"

"There's no need to look so surprised," he replied, staring intently at the essay he'd been trying to mark since she came in. Five girls – all first years – seemed to have replaced the customary emotion of fear that he expected from people of their age with attachment and pining. Their homework was scattered with doodle hearts, they were all falling behind in Potions because they couldn't concentrate. It was sickening, and a massive pain in the arse.

"No, I suppose not," she murmured softly. "I guess it's because of the whole 'antihero' vibe you've got going on," she added, turning to leave. Snape sat back in his chair with a smirk she couldn't see but heard nonetheless when he spoke to her retreating back.

"Antihero?"

"Yes – the brooding bad guy who isn't all that bad, that you hate to love, love to hate," she explained without a hint of irony in her voice, and her features completely deadpan. "Pop culture's full of them. Especially Muggle pop culture. They _love_ antiheroes. Especially vampire ones."

Snape let out a sound like a growl and jammed his quill into the inkwell roughly. "I am not an antihero," he muttered. "And I do not 'brood'."

Alana fought her laughter and shook her head. "Sure."

He glanced at her reproachfully. "Goodnight, Professor Cross," he said.

"Night!" she said cheerfully, popping a chocolate in her mouth as she left.

XXXXX


	8. Gettin' Along

_A/N: So, here we are, edging closer to a more comfortable relationship between the two. Happy days. Hope you like it. As always, reviews, suggestions, general praise and adoration are much appreciated. In fact they're encouraged. I'm only kidding, just drop a line._

_I don't own HP. Chapter title is a song that comes from the musical 'A Very Potter Sequel'. Except this is about Alana and Snape, not Umbridge and Dumbledore._

_RdF_

Chapter Eight – Gettin' Along

Alana awoke on Christmas morning, a little disorientated as she stared hard at the pile of gifts on her desk and wondered why they were there. When the realisation dawned on her – that today was Christmas, and they were for her – she smiled contentedly and rose from her four poster bed, pulling on her dressing gown that was strewn over the end as she did so. The room was cold, despite the house elves having lit the fire. She flicked her wand absentmindedly towards it so its heat swelled a bit. She tucked her feet underneath herself as she sat on the chair to have a proper look at the gifts; they were like blocks of ice.

She hadn't expected many, but there were quite a few here. It was obvious who the green and silver one was from; a running joke between her and the Malfoy's over her Gryffindor pride. They constantly told her she should have been a Slytherin, not that you could argue with the Sorting Hat. She touched the velvet bow lightly before laying it aside. There were also small parcels from Hermione, Harry, a few from friends from her apprentice days, Jenea, who had gone home for the holidays, and Chester, who had also returned to his parent's in Ireland. At the bottom of the pile was a small plain looking one with a French postmark. She couldn't believe her father had sent her a gift, so it must have secretly been sent by her mother. Sure enough, when she tore of the wrapping paper hurriedly, inside was a short letter from her Mum, sending her love and best wishes, and a leather bound notebook with her name engraved in the cover. She ran her hand over the letters feeling a renewed surge of sadness that she was alone in her room unwrapping presents when she could be with people she loved, but she laid it aside. She was determined not to feel too sorry for herself.

Jenea and Chester had sent sweets and alcohol, just as she had them. Hermione's was ever practical – a diary to help organise her lesson plans. Most of her gifts were edible. She smiled at the book inside her present from Lucius (and Draco, though she thought he might have just added his name to the tag). It was a first edition they'd been discussing last time she visited. She should have known he would have remembered.

By the end of it all Alana was surrounded by paper and had begun arranging her gifts into a neat pile of her desk, smiling gratefully as she did so. The room was considerably warmer now so, rising from her chair, Alana flicked her wand to send the paper to the bin and headed to her bathroom to get ready for some breakfast. Family or no family, she was going to enjoy Christmas Day whatever it brought.

XXXXX

Alana groaned as she strolled down the corridor to the room where the teachers were gathering. She had eaten way too much at lunch and she sincerely hoped that no one would offer her anything else except a large, soft chair for her to sit herself down in and rest. Christmas dinner had been wonderful; there was something about the food here. It tasted heavenly, and even when she thought she'd had enough, she'd found room for some more chipolatas or roast parsnips.

Everyone had been in good spirits too. Joking, laughing. It had been a good decision to stay. There were plenty of distractions to take her mind off her parents, and she found herself really enjoying the day. After eating, she'd decided to take advantage of the quiet library and gone to read in one of the alcoves. She'd run into Ollie from her Potions class on the stairs on her way to get ready for the staff party, surrounded by a large group of friends. She couldn't help but feel proud and encouraged to see him come out of his shell, and he was coming forward more in class with answers. Porthos Malfoy on the other hand was still hopeless.

She'd tried to get out of the party in the end, simply because she was tired and she'd realised that she would be the only person her own age there. Not that her age was a huge issue, but with all the other NQT's away, Alana was concerned that she'd have nothing to talk about and no one to talk to. But when she tried to brush Professor Sprout off, the woman had alerted Minerva and Madame Pince and before she knew it, they were all insisting she was there, if only to try McGonagall's mulled wine she'd heard so much about. She'd buckled under pressure, and she could have sworn she saw a smirk appear on Professor Snape's face as the scene played out before him. He'd been quiet all day, showing his face but not really getting involved, but then he'd always been very private.

Entering the room, she was surprised to hear soft music playing. The room was small, warm and decorated festively like the rest of the castle, with mistletoe just above the door that she came through. Alana grimaced when she spotted it and hoped she wouldn't witness anyone taking advantage of it. She smiled warmly at everyone as she walked past, making a conscious effort to put some distance between herself and the buffet table and made her way over to the edge of the room where there was an empty set of chairs and not many people. When she made it over there, she found they weren't as unoccupied as she thought – Severus Snape was sat by himself, completely absorbed in a book. He noticed her standing there and glanced up, scanning her quickly with his dark eyes.

"Sorry – do you mind?" she asked, pointing to a chair. He shook his head, closed his book and rose.

"By all means, take a seat." He made a motion to go but Professor McGonagall arrived with a glass in her hand and passed it over to Alana. "Ah Severus – where are you going? I know you don't want to be here. But this is Alana's first staff party. Don't leave her by herself." He narrowed his eyes slightly at her tone – that of a stern teacher addressing a pupil reproachfully. He didn't sit down or reply, but he didn't look as if he were about to walk away either, so she turned her attentions to Alana. "I thought I saw you come in, dear. There you are, as promised. My own recipe," she added with a proud smile. "Drink up."

"Er...thanks Professor," Alana smiled, taking the glass. She saw Snape fight a smirk out of the corner of her eye but didn't say anything. Minerva smiled warmly at her, and left them alone.

"What's so funny?" Alana asked after a while of sitting, scanning the room. Her glum companion didn't turn his head to look down at her as he replied. Instead he kept his gaze focused ahead for the moment.

"You."

"Me?"

"The way you interact with your old Professors," he explained. "You obviously find it extremely awkward sometimes, and it's amusing to watch. They way they press ganged you into coming this evening was very interesting."

"It's not awkward..." she paused as he cut her off with a reproachful look, his lip twisting into a sceptical smirk. She bowed her head and shook it before lifting her face to meet his gaze. "Fine. It's a _little _awkward sometimes," she admitted with a shrug. "Look, in the same way you obviously find it hard seeing me as a professor and not a pupil sometimes, I find it hard to see you and everyone else as my..." She trailed off as she watched Hagrid down a pint. "Colleagues. I mean, I'm not stupid. I know you all have lives..." Alana trailed off with a nervous laugh. "It's just weird seeing you all drink and stuff."

Snape listened, standing fixedly in his spot with his book under his arm. "Well, it's always a little 'weird' having someone we used to teach join the fold too, so you're not alone."

She smiled and took a sip of the mulled wine. It was warmly, pleasantly so, and had a delicious kick. She nestled back in the chair to make herself comfortable, but seeing that Snape showed no sign of moving, nor any sign of sitting down, she frowned.

"Sit down if you're staying. You're making me nervous, standing there like some kind of sentinel."

He glanced at her sharply when she spoke. He'd heard those words before – over five years ago, in the Malfoy's study, she had said almost the same thing, and sitting down then had been one step towards something that shouldn't have happen. It was only one element of a dangerous mix, but he had sat down all the same, became too close. He mentally reminded himself that it wasn't the same now – she was older. She wasn't his student anymore. She was a grown woman. And he was a grown man. They were colleagues for goodness' sake, and shouldn't they be able to behave like that? He knew that a lot of the discomfort between them was not because he had once taught her, as it was with everyone else in the room. But he was confident that sitting down now would not be a step towards another situation from five years ago. Was there any harm in being...friends? Not now certainly. And so, he returned to the chair he had been in before.

"Thank you. Talking of treating me like a student - you make me feel like one when you stand over me, all ominous," she joked, smiling into her glass as she drank. He shook his head with a sigh, not bothering to bite back to her jibe.

They sat quietly for a while; Snape reopened his book and carried on reading, and that prompted Alana to take one from the shelf behind her. She examined the cover, saw that it was relatively interesting and began reading. Her concentration was disturbed by a pair of eyes on her, staring intently, and when she looked up to see who it was, Snape was looking at her with a searching expression.

"What is it?" she asked.

"France," he said simply, but when she looked expectant, he closed his book slowly. "You were supposed to go to France. Why didn't you?" He had been reading rather innocently until he came across a passage talking about a particular herb discovered in Paris, and it had sparked him off on a train of thought that had bothered him for some time – since Alana had first arrived. He had the opportunity to ask right in front of him, and so he did so.

"I'm...sorry?" she said, eyes growing wide. Was he about to start an argument with her over why she was here? He didn't seem confrontational.

"When you left, you said you were going back to France, but you didn't intend to stay long. I'm curious to know what happened," he explained more clearly. She breathed a sigh of relief and nodded in a thoughtful way, closing her book and laying it on the table in front of her.

"I didn't intend to stay at all. I was going to apply for an apprenticeship that began after the summer," she started. "But I fell ill, really ill, during the holidays and couldn't go. By the time I was even slightly better, it was too late to start anything, and so my father and I sat down and discussed everything that had happened between us. He offered to apprentice me on a trial basis and I had no other option, so I stayed."

"I presume it didn't work out," Snape interjected in a serious tone. She shook her head and sat back.

"No, not at all. I tried to, but my father went back on everything he'd said. I found out he'd not even filed the official documents that meant my time with him would actually amount to a qualification. I was basically there to work as his servant," she said, and he heard the anger in her voice, though she didn't raise it. She cleared her throat and tucked some hair behind her ear as she continued in the story. "We had a huge fight, and I left. He told me never to come back."

Snape frowned. "I'm...sorry. I did see something of that in your father when we met, but I never suspected he would be so active in his attempt to sabotage your future."

She shrugged as if it were nothing at all, though he saw sadness in her eyes. "It was because of you I knew I was better than just someone who cleaned out my father's cauldrons for him. It wasn't that I wasn't willing to work hard, it's just..."

"He had nothing left to teach you. I understand," Snape interrupted. Alana looked at him with a soft smile.

"Well, I'm glad someone understands. If I told people I left the apprenticeship of the Great Algernon Cross, it would be like I committed murder. In fact, Dad acts as if I have," she added wryly, looking down at her half empty glass.

Snape paused pensively before asking another question. To have the curiosity he'd had all these weeks finally quelled with some answers was good but he didn't want to pry or push her. "Where did you go?"

"Hmmm? Oh, I didn't know what to do. I came to London," she said. "This was around late November time, and I realised I had nowhere to go. I certainly didn't have another job to go to. I had some money saved up and spent a few nights in a hotel until I happened, by chance, to run into Draco."

Snape stiffened a little at the sound of his godson's name, though he couldn't explain why. He put a finger to his lips and waited for her to continue.

"He listened to what had happened, offered me a place to stay at his and Lucius', and I was running out of money so I took him up on it. But you probably knew that. I stayed for a while and Lucius managed to pull a few strings and find me an apprenticeship that I could begin in the January. They were very kind to me," she added with a fond smile.

"I was aware that you'd kept in contact but not to this extent," he said.

"Yes, we're all good friends."

"But you didn't go for Christmas?" he probed with a smirk.

Alana's shoulders shrunk visibly. "I know, I know. But I just didn't feel like it this year. I miss my mother and being surrounded by people didn't seem like a good idea at the time." She faltered. Why was she telling him all this? Minerva's mulled wine had made her a little talkative. She eyed the empty glass shrewdly – she hadn't realised she was such a lightweight. "Sorry, I'm...er...running on a bit."

"Not at all," Snape replied. "I asked you, after all." He paused.

She nodded and fell into an easy silence, picking up her book again and reading where she'd left off. Snape did the same and they sat quietly for a little while longer before he watched as she discreetly yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, and then did it again, and again, before finally she closed the book and replaced it on the shelf.

"Goodnight, Professor," she said, rising. "I just can't keep up," she joked, jerking a thumb at the rest of the faculty still enjoying themselves. "I'm too tired."

"Goodnight," he replied. She moved past him to leaving, brushing his legs accidently with her own as she did so, causing him to pull them in.

"Oh, thank you," she said, turning on her heels quickly. He looked at her with mild surprise.

"What for?"

"For listening. For being interested. Whatever. It was...good to talk," she added with a polite smile. And with that she left the room, thanking Minerva for the wine as she did so. She had known they could do it – be amicable, that was – and surprisingly, she had really enjoyed his company. Well, not surprisingly, she thought as she paced along the corridors back to the dungeon. Alana had always enjoyed spending time with him, when they weren't fighting. He was an interesting man, who could joke when he was in the mood. Sitting in silence with him was...comfortable sometimes. If only there hadn't been all the drama of _feelings_ during their time together and they could have maintained a long relationship. It was only because of those everything had gotten all mixed up in the first place.

XXXXX

Severus Snape was disturbed.

He couldn't put his finger on why exactly, as he entered his chambers and readied himself for bed. He hadn't drunk anything – he'd had quite enough at dinner and had only really gone tonight because he'd been bullied into being sociable by Albus. He didn't feel unwell really; not because he'd eaten too much, or eaten something strange. He could only isolate the source of his discomfort to the last hour or so he had spent with Alana.

There was something different about Alana. He'd noticed it before now, but having spoken to her, there was something in her manner these days. At first he hadn't liked it, but he didn't know what it was – he could tell now it was a self assuredness and quiet confidence. It had been close to arrogance in her school days, but now? No, no...now it was the product of a five year adventure in which she had left home and lost people she cared about, no matter how terribly they treated her. She had grown up, and matured, and he hadn't noticed properly before. Stand her next to any of her peers and she might seem older. After all, by the sound of it, she'd had to grow up fast, even without Lucius' helping hand. Of course, there were still flashes of the old Alana, he thought with a smirk, thinking about her temper tantrum the other week over the reports. He hoped she never lost that. But this new side of her – a side he could almost imagine himself liking a little – was a definite improvement.

Something in her story had riled him too. A sort of sense of righteous anger over the way her father had treated her had boiled his blood. He'd hid it well of course. He couldn't imagine what she'd think if he had gotten angry over it in front of her. He'd disliked Algernon Cross since he'd met him at the convention briefly and liked him even less now. What sort of a man, let alone a _father_, tried to wreck his daughter's career? Severus supposed he'd only really understand if he was a father himself, but he couldn't see a logical side to Algernon's actions.

What further infuriated him was the fact that he cared at all. What business was it of his? Beyond that of an interested ex professor. He had only asked out of curiosity really, and here he was, playing over the story in his mind, allowing it to plague him further than necessary. He climbed into bed, feeling wearied from the day. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but he suspected that what had disturbed him most was, despite his effort to keep some distance between them, he had rather enjoyed her company.


	9. Tough Love

_A/N: Hallo, one and all. Quick updates this week. There's a little less Snape/Alana interaction in this chapter but that means it'll be all the nicer when it does come. Of course, the inspection is coming up too. Thanks to all my reviewers. Enjoy! _

_RdF_

Chapter Nine – Tough Love

Christmas went as quickly as it had descended and the joyous atmosphere dulled over the following days, leaving Alana no choice but to return to marking and preparing her classes. She'd started in the quiet of her rooms but she got tired of trying to strain her eyes in the strange light so, gathering her things, she made her way up to the library. There were a few students scattered around, resuming their studies and waiting for the return to normal life, but not enough to distract her. She settled herself at a desk, and after having a quick discussion with Madame Pince, began reading through the stack of essays.

She worked her way through them fairly quickly, when they were easy to read. She couldn't pretend that every student was a joy to teach – she highly doubted she had been at times. But she frowned her way through parchment that was barely the minimum length she'd asked for, despairing at the spider's crawl that some of them had presented her, and wondering what on earth had happened to good old fashioned grammar. Muggleborns were the worst – text speech occasionally cropping up amidst descriptions of the colour and viscosity of a Shrinking Solution. Paragraphs finished with...she had to cringe..._smiley faces. _She had a difficult time being harsh, but Alana didn't hold back on her comments when she saw the semi colon winking at her.

She pushed them aside and started on her stack of NEWT students' work. Perhaps there'd be some hope for the Wizarding World in them.

XXXXX

Snape handed the book back to Madame Pince, having left his office to stretch his legs. "Thank you. Very informative," he commented in a low voice, aware that there were people trying to work.

The woman stared at it and took it dumbly before sliding into a pile to be sorted. "Professor Cross got it to you then."

He nodded and turned around, not meaning to stay long. _Speak of the devil_, he thought, spotting the young woman slumped over a desk, marking essays. He could see she was frowning hard, and her expression was torn between confusion and worry; she held her head in one hand, elbow on the table, and the other running a quill above the page as she read. Snape didn't see any reason to disturb her, so went to move on, nodding at Pince silently.

"Professor Snape?"

He felt his shoulders tense slightly at the sound of her voice but turned anyway with an expectant expression. She'd sat back and was looking at him but the mixed look on her face hadn't gone. "Do you mind if I ask you about something?" she asked quietly, being careful not to raise her voice too loudly. She'd seen him glide by out of the corner of her eye.

"Can it wait?"

She looked a little startled and looked down at the reams of parchment in front of her. "If you're busy, it doesn't matter."

He scolded himself for being short with her; after all, he was technically her supervisor, and superior, and she had asked for his advice on a matter. When had he ever known Alana to stop that low before? Her pride had often gotten in the way. "What's the problem, Professor Cross?"

She picked up and essay, holding it almost gingerly. "I think one of my NEWT students has copied their essay from somewhere else. I mean..." she paused, trying to explain. "It doesn't _seem _like their own work."

Severus edged closer to the table and put out a hand to take the paper from her. He scanned over it quickly. "Do they usually write this well?" he murmured as he read.

She brushed her hair back from her face. "Not usually. They're not a bad student, but this essay isn't concordant with their usual efforts. I mentioned to them before the holidays that I needed to see an improvement and this was the next piece they handed in. How do I know if they simply put the effort in, and bucked up their ideas, or if they've taken a shortcut to get me off their back?"

Snape fought a smirk, realising she was genuinely at a loss over the matter. "What is your gut feeling?" he asked, handing it back. Alan's brow furrowed as she thought about it.

"I think he cheated," she said resolutely. "But I can't be certain, and I certainly don't want to drag him aside and accuse him of something he might not have done. Especially if he _did_ listen to what I had to say. Maybe he's struggling?"

Severus clenched his jaw and stared hard at her. Was she referring to the time _he_ had accused _her_ of cheating? She looked at him, waiting for an answer – the very picture of innocence – and in a second any coldness he'd felt was pushed away. This wasn't five years ago. How many times would he have to tell himself that?

"I would say that your gut instinct – though not always faultless – is usually right. Reading this over, I can't say I believe he wrote it. There are clear distinctions between reworded text and his own train of thought. However, you know the student, I don't."

"Right," she said with a heavy sigh. "So I have to trust my own judgement and handle it accordingly?"

"Yes."

Alana nodded and gave him a brief smile. "Thank you. I didn't mean to take up your time. I just didn't know how to handle it. It's not a big deal really," she added trying to laugh it off. Snape shifted uncomfortably.

"Not at all." He clenched his jaw, knowing he was going to say it even if he didn't think it was an idea he was comfortable with. "And if you have any other concerns, you know where I am."

She smiled gratefully but didn't say anything more so he took that as his cue to leave. Alana stared after him with a pensive expression, before shaking her head and returning to the essays.

XXXXX

"OK, I hope you all had a good break, but I want your essays that you should have written over Christmas out in front of you, so I can collect them while you work," Alana commanded, tossing textbooks across tables to her NEWT class students a week later. She was surprised how much noise a group of fifteen or so people could make but they were strangely exuberant, chatting and laughing. They were her first class after the holidays and having finally made up her mind on how she was going to handle the sixth year – a blonde boy who was now pulling his notebook out of his satchel with a smirk – she was beginning to feel a bit sick. She'd planned a timed lesson, so they could work in silence while she collected herself, planning what she would say.

It had suddenly clicked, after she'd asked him for his advice that a similar scene involving essays and suspected plagiarism had played out between her and Snape. Alana had outwardly groaned when she'd remembered, causing Pince to give her a reproachful look to remind her to be quietly. That had been the beginning of their turbulent relationship. She supposed he must have thought she was playing some kind of game with him. But if he thought so, he hadn't said a word, which in itself was even more unusual than sixth year NEWT students looking forward to Potions.

"Professor Cross – this knife is broken," sighed a Slytherin girl, twirling the damaged item in her hand lazily.

"You know where the box is Helena," Alana said, ratting the container on the table where she kept them during class (within in sight, to be collected and counted at the end – she was young enough to remember that people this age were not to be trusted), collecting essays as she did so. "Take advantage of your legs and come up and get one. Leave the broken one of my desk," she added. The girl huffed and slid slowly from her stool to do as she was told.

"Right – page fifty four. An old favourite," she smiled as they groaned. "I know it's easy for most of you, but that's the point. You should be able to do it with your eyes closed by now, and yet judging by your homework, we just need to iron out a few tweaks. I promise I won't make you do this potion anymore after today," she said wryly. "Your two hours starts now, and if you have any problems, feel free to raise your hand and ask for help."

The two hours passed slowly, with only a few distractions from people getting in a muddle. She didn't understand it at all; Jackson Mott, the boy who she was going to speak to at the end, wasn't stupid. In fact, practically, he was one of the better in the class. So was he just not trying at the theory? Was he struggling with it? These were questions she'd have to get to the bottom of when she spoke to him. Alana was determined, in a way, not to handle it as Snape had done with her. She would talk it through with Jackson, rather than shove an accusation in his face. Alana tapped her quill in an irritated way as she thought about it; a surge of old anger came back as the memories did. She shook her head and tried to focus on the words she was writing.

The timer sounded and by that time most of them had finished, and were waiting for her to test them, which she did so carefully. She was lucky – she had no one in this class that was as hopeless as Neville Longbottom had been in her year, but still, she thought eyeing some of the mixtures, you couldn't be too careful. As they packed away, she counted the knives and as they began to filter out the dungeon door, she called out "Jackson! Do you mind if I just have a word?"

The boy turned, not looking remotely concerned, and pushed his way back to stand in front of her. Alana waited until the room was empty before gesturing for him to take a seat. She stood, simply because all her teachers seemed to stand when they spoke to her, and she'd always been intimidated by them. Jackson didn't look intimidated however, just expectant, and she cleared her throat.

"I just wanted to talk to you about your work, and how you think you're getting on," she started, folding her arms as she leant on her desk. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Alright. Today was a bit lame," he admitted casually.

"Lame or not, you always do particularly well at the practical exercises," Alana continued, wondering how a tiny word like 'lame' had stung her. "I'm just a little concerned with the theory still, and I was wondering if you would talk to me about it. To try and clarify some things."

"What's there to talk about?"

"Well, do you find it particularly difficult?" she asked, prompting him. "Are you not fond of writing?"

"I don't mind it."

"How do you feel about Potions?"

"Well, with all due respect Professor," Jackson smirked, sounding as if there wasn't a lot of respect behind his voice at all. "I don't want to be a Potioneer."

"Fair enough," she said quietly. "But all the same, I expect a certain level of commitment-"

"I have a lot to do and sometimes I just don't have time," he interrupted. Something in Alana snapped, and she clenched her jaw tightly. He wasn't _struggling_ with the work, he was _lazy_, and rather than have to put any effort in, Jackson had produced something he thought she had wanted to see to keep her happy.

"Your last essay," she said picking it up from her desk and decided she wasn't going to try and be nice any longer, "was an improvement." She saw him shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye, but when she looked at him properly his face was still very blank. "I figured that our discussion before Christmas must have gone in."

"Must have," he replied coolly.

"Good. Because if there's one thing I won't tolerate, Jackson, its people not giving me their best." She waved the paper at him. "I'd rather you said you couldn't be _bothered_, than handed me something that wasn't your own work. You didn't deserve the grade that this essay came out as, and as such, I'm not going to accept it."

"It was my own work," he tried.

"Some of it was – and that's how I _know_ you can do better!" Alana said, raising her voice and standing up straight. "What you did write that was your own was coherent. You took time enough to make sure it didn't look like you'd copied your answers straight out of book. So you're telling me you don't have time to do it properly? Why can't you divert that deviousness into actually writing me a proper essay? You don't have to be a Potioneer ok? I don't give a damn what you do after here, but as long as you're in my class, you'll do what is expected."

Jackson sighed angrily through his teeth, allowing her words to settle in. He nodded a little and looked up at her through narrowed eyes. "So, have I got detention then?"

Alana clenched her fists and paused. She was going to have to do something.

"Thirty points from Slytherin and I want that essay rewritten. And today's too, if you've done the same trick with that." A guilty look crossed his face. "I'll be speaking to your head of house," she added, handing him his work back. He shook his head and stood up abruptly, taking the sheets from her.

"Can I go?"

"Yes."

He left quickly, leaving Alana only a few minutes to collect her thoughts and to steady her nerves before the next class. Her gut instinct had been right, and she had called it – but she could have been completely wrong. Now her gut instinct was nothing more than a knotted feeling in her stomach. Alana decided, sitting down, she didn't like using the Severus Snape Tough Love Approach. She much preferred it when everything ran smoothly, and she didn't have to play 'No-More-Miss-Nice-Teacher'. But still, at least these problems were few and far between. But she couldn't feel triumphant. She was going to have to call in Professor Snape. She sighed and rested her head on the desk. As much as it pained her, Jackson was in Snape's house, and so he would have to deal with him accordingly, however much it felt like passing the buck or running to him for help.


	10. Helping Hands

_A.N:__ Whoa, long overdue again, and I'm sorry. Short pointless chapter but hey! It's a chapter._

Chapter 10 – Helping Hands

Severus was pushing his glass away from him when Alana slipped into the chair beside him during breakfast the following morning. She was quiet, dressed in her black robes, and when she helped herself to some food, she kept her head down. He sat back and watched discreetly as she picked at her breakfast, drinking more than she ate, before finally giving up. He rolled his eyes.

"What's bothering you?"

She seemed startled at the sound of his voice and looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Unless you were trying to analyse your bagel on a molecular level, I'd hazard a guess that something was on your mind," he said dryly, gesturing to her plate of crumbs. She sighed and gave him a weak smile.

"Actually, I was working up the courage to ask you something." She turned in her chair to face him properly. "Now's probably not a good time..." She trailed off; glancing at the student's who were chattering noisily at their tables.

"Go ahead," he urged her, his curiosity having piqued from her strange behaviour. She seemed unsure, like there was some inner conflict going on behind her eyes and he was used to her being quite a strong and confident young woman.

"The boy who I suspected had cheated is in your House. I told him I'd be discussing the matter with you, and I was hoping," Alana added, drumming her fingers on the table, "you'd fight my corner."

Snape smirked. "Fight your corner? I was under the impression you were quite capable of taking care of yourself."

"Listen," she said, sounding snappy and as if asking him for anything was driving her to a point of madness. "He doesn't give a damn no matter what I say to him. But someone needs to sort him out. I took points away, and he's rewriting the work, but you're his Head of House. I think he'd probably show you a little more respect than he has me. He'd probably listen to you."

"It sounds like you're handling it just fine. This is your problem, Professor Cross. Your pupil."

"I know that," she hissed. "Don't you think I know that I need to deal with it myself? I don't really want to have to run to you every time I have a problem!"

People started to move around them; it was time for the lessons to begin. Without realising it, the plates and food before them had completely vanished, taking Alana's worried plate of bagel crumbs with them. She stared at him resolutely, and expectantly, demanding an answer from him. Snape rose also, standing over her and looking down as he thought it through. Something behind her eyes – that earnest, pleading look that she was trying to hide – made him relent.

"Come to my office later, and we'll discuss this further," he said simply.

"Thank you," Alana replied with a nod, waiting until he'd gone before she stood and headed to the dungeons herself.

XXXXX

Alana sat in the armchair patiently for Snape to return, examining her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time since he'd left the room. She'd met him earlier that evening to discuss everything that had happened and then he'd left to speak to the boy, commanding her to wait for him. That had been just over half an hour ago, and she was growing restless; she had work to be getting on with, and she was exhausted too, but there was little chance for sleep when there was so much marking to be done. She was contemplating getting up and returning to her rooms when the door to the office opened with a soft creak and Snape breezed past her to sit opposite at his desk.

"You'll be pleased to know the issue has been dealt with," he said blankly, lifting a quill. "I 'fought your corner' and I doubt you'll have any more trouble from him."

Alana kept her sigh of relief in and smiled gratefully instead. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"But I would advise you to be a little more careful – Jackson Mott's father is an influential character within the Ministry at the moment, particularly in Education," added Snape calmly, watching as Alana's brow furrowed. "You don't need an enemy before the inspection begins. Hopefully, young Mott has been sufficiently frightened into silence, and from preventing any further difficulties."

The young woman opposite him nodded and rose from the chair. "Thanks for the warning." She went to walk away when a thought suddenly struck her. "What did you say to Jackson then? Or did you just give him detentions and be done with it?"

"He said very little." Snape's head bowed slightly and he put his hands together. When he looked up, his features were set and he simply stared at her. "And no, I didn't give him detention."

"Did you ban him from Hogsmeade?"

"No."

Alana laughed, confused. "Then how did you punish him?"

"I didn't," Snape sighed, obviously impatient.

Alana's smiled dropped and she folded her arms. "Why ever not?"

"For the very reasons I just said," he snapped, rising to place some books on the shelf. He'd known she'd be like this. "To prevent Jackson Mott from going to his father and causing any more disruptions. He's an influential student – he could cause a whole class to turn on you if he felt so inclined."

"But he cheated, Professor," cried Alana, totally incredulous. "And you're just letting him get away with it?"

"Sometimes," Snape said in a low voice. "You need to learn which battles need fighting, and which ones to let go."

"So what _did_ you say to him?" argued Alana, frowning hard with a fiery look behind her eyes. "Did you just give him a verbal slapped wrist? I should have known you'd look after one of your own. Perhaps if he was anything but a Slytherin you might have been a little stricter."

"Don't be so petty. This is not about favouritism, or Houses," he hit back. "You know, you could try to be a little grateful. I was thinking of your career, which you've accused me of _not _doing. You seem to be a bundle of contradictions."

"Forgive me, but I assumed you'd actually punish him. You know, like a real professor?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at her. "Do not lecture me on how to be a teacher – I've been teaching far longer than you. And as such I know that there are times when you have to be careful. This is one of them, but by all means if you think you know better, go ahead and make an example of Mott. He'll soon use his father and the inspection to make an example of you."

Alana took a deep breath and buried her face in her hands, letting out a frustrated groan that reverberated around the dark dungeon. When she finally lowered her hands she looked tired and cross. "You're right. Sorry."

Snape started with surprise but cleared his throat to regain his composure. She apologised of her own accord, and admitted he was right? That action was akin to the world turning on its axis, but he didn't say as much.

"I guess I'm just lashing out – the whole inspection thing has everyone, not just me, on edge. I should have accused you of being unprofessional," Alana continued calmly, slumping back in the chair she'd been in before. "Especially not when you've just done me a favour."

Snape folded his arms and leant against the desk, searching for something to say. "Well, I suppose that's understandable."

"Do you think Jackson will cause any more trouble?" she asked him, looking up at him with wide eyes, filled with worry. Like the look at breakfast, it softened him a little, in a way he didn't like. He shook his head.

"Not unless you give him reason to. Just...let sleeping dogs lie for now. At least until the inspection's over. Then you can reprimand anyone you like."

"Thank you, Professor," she sighed, rising again. "I mean it. You've been very helpful."

He bowed his head slightly and turned away from her smile, pacing around to sit at his desk and continue with his work. "Goodnight Professor Cross," he said simply. He didn't acknowledge her thank you, but then again, she hadn't expected him to. Instead she went to the door and left silently. Once she had left the room, he looked up again at the place she had occupied, frowning into it with a puzzled expression, as if he could decipher everything he wanted to know about her from the empty air.

XXXXX

Alana wandered slowly down the corridor as she headed back to her room. There was nothing of the outside world to see in his part of the castle but she liked the walk all the same – she'd grown quite fond of the dungeons and the grim stone surroundings the lower levels of the castle brought. To think how she used to dread coming down for her first detentions with Snape back when she was a student, and how that dread had quickly turned into excitement. Great deals of her happy memories of Hogwarts were locked up in this part of the caste. A lot of her bad ones too.

She wondered if Snape ever thought about..._them_. Perhaps not. He struck her as the kind of man who would draw a line under it and move on, especially if – as he had thought at the time – he'd never see her again. He certainly wouldn't spend his evenings thinking over his illicit relationship with his student.

She hadn't thought about it in a long time, but she supposed, being confronted with him all the time, it was difficult not to. She'd get these awful flashes of her eighteen year old self, pining after him. Alana couldn't work out how she felt over the memories that had been awakened by coming back. She hadn't spent the time away from him fantasising about him. Neither had she remained single in the hope they'd meet again. She'd had boyfriends, and she hadn't spent her time comparing them to the memory of Snape. But now, seeing him every day, and consulting him, arguing with him, well – it was almost like old times.

Apart from the old feelings of course.


	11. Inspection

I am so sorry! This has been way overdue. Good news is, the updates will be more regular. I won't bore you with excuses, just apologise because this isn't a very exciting update (it sure is long though). Thanks for reading! R xxx

XXXXX

"Never has a fry up seemed so unappealing," Chester sighed, pushing his breakfast away from him. The morning of the inspection had brought with it a nauseous feeling for the NQT's that could turn even the heartiest of eaters away from their food. Alana hadn't even bothered putting anything on her plate - she just sat there, nursing a mug of tea in her hands, trying not to think too much about it. She didn't voice it but she suspected she had a lot to lose from the inspection; Jackson had come to her office with the essays, rewritten as she'd requested, but it was the way his eyes looked and the tone behind the 'I've quoted any references I used this time, Professor" that made her think perhaps it wasn't going to be as easy as she'd hoped.

"Come on," she said rising, which prompted Jenea and the others to do the same. They were all supposed to congregate in a classroom where they would be addressed by the Minister of Magical Education - Mr. Augustus Mott - and informed of the particulars of the inspection. It wasn't scheduled for another fifteen minutes, but it didn't hurt to make a good impression. Especially in this case.

"I don't know why you're even worried," Chester shot at Alana for the hundredth time in as many days. "You'll be fine."

"We'll all be fine," Ruth said cheerily. "We all did well before."

"Are you alright?" Jenea asked Alana quietly as the others wandered off ahead of them. "You look peaky."

"You know when you wake up and you know something bad is going to happen? I've got that feeling."

"Because of Jackson Mott?"

Alana shrugged. "Maybe I'm just being stupid."

"Maybe. I thought the Potions Master sorted it all out by putting the fear of Snape into him."

"He spoke to him but...I don't know." Alana took a deep breath. "Something's going to happen, I just know it."

"Hey," Jenea scolded. "What would Ruth say?"

Alana narrowed her eyes at her. "I'm not saying it."

Jenea jostled her with her elbow. "Come on - say it with me. Positive..."

"Outcomes Only," Alana said begrudgingly, under her breath. "Positive outcomes only."

"That's the spirit," Jenea smiled pushing her along by her shoulders and into the classroom. They took their seats quietly, and she suddenly felt like her role had been reversed; once again, she was a nervous student, about to undergo an intense examination. There was a small group of Ministry officials at the front, all standing and watching them, holding clipboards and quills like weapons. The headmaster stood stoically at the side. Alana looked to her left and saw Chester visibly gulp.

"Positive outcomes only," she tried, under her breath, but it didn't work when a tall man, with cropped dark hair and a thick, neat mustache turned towards them and called for their attention. She knew who this man must be.

"Attention NQT'S," the man said clearly. He had a deep voice. "Good morning. I am Augustus Mott, the Minister for Magical Education, and I will be overseeing as well as participating in your inspection process today. I understand that this may seem nerve-wracking for some of you, but you should try to see it as a learning curve. Anything we pick up on as an area to improve on is to benefit both you and your students. No one will walk away from this inspection jobless - if there is a problem, you'll simply be put on probation. A trial period to rectify any mistakes that might have occured," he added with what he probably thought was a reasuring smile but it did little to settle Alana's stomach. She hated feeling like this.

"It will work very much like your mock inspection in January; you will be assigned an inspector who will sit in one of your timetabled lessons today. During this time you'll be observed closely, and the inspector will talk to some of your pupils discreetly about how they view you as a teacher and your methods. These student surveys will be random. Then you will be expected to have a one to one with an inspector after school hours to discuss the findings. The results of the inspection will be sent to you by Owl some point over the next few weeks. If there is a problem, and we see fit to place any one of you on probation, then we will detail the aspects of that trial period with you, and the Headmaster. I should hasten to add that probation can result in you being suspended from teaching, perhaps indefinitely, but only if you are unwilling to improve." He paused, glancing over them all with a sickening smirk before his dark eyes rested on Alana. "Is that clear, or do you have any questions?"

Nobody responded.

"I should also note that the students will be magically screened to see if they have been offered bribes," he added a low voice. "If such a violation is discovered, we shall have to take a more serious view of the situation. Not that I suspect any of you would do such a thing," he added with a friendly grin. He turned to Dumbledore. "Is there anything further you want to mention?"

"Just do your best," Dumbledore told them quietly. They all nodded slowly. "This experience can be very beneficial if you allow it to be."

Alana kept a snort to herself. She doubted anything about this would benefit her.

Mott clapped his hands together. "Now, I suggest you go to your classrooms and get ready. Your inspectors will be along shortly."

They all rose slowly, feeling as if the world had been placed upon their shoulders, and trudged away to their rooms. Alana ran her fingers through her hair before tying it back with a heavy sigh. It was time to face the music, she supposed, but her confidence was failing. Something about Mott's sweeping glance at her had unsettled her, and she was preparing herself for the worst.

XXXXX

"Settle down!" Alana said for the third time and a little sharper than she intended. She knew her patience was hanging by a thread, but it was third lesson already, and no sign of her inspector. She had double Potions with the Slytherins now, and they seemed determined to ignore her.

"Thank you," she sighed, when they finally found their seats and turned to the front. A points deduction would be her normal port of call, but she wanted to play it safe; bribing might be against the rules, but there was no harm in keeping them sweet. Especially her sixth year Slytherins, who were fully capable of being conniving little toerags when they put their mind to it. "Let's start by turning to-"

Her instruction was interrupted by the door opening, without a knock, and a tall, but rather large woman waltzing in armed with a clipboard. Alana swallowed hard. The inspector gave her a nod, but offered no reassuring smile. "I shall sit at the back Professor Cross - just continue with whatever you were doing and pretend I'm not here," the woman told her wearily. She walked over to a seat at the back with a dramatic flourish of her indigo robes and stared pointedly at Alana, waiting for her to start.

"Er...ok...right. Page twenty nine, please," she said, putting her hand to her forehead and breathing a long deep breath to calm herself. There was a collective groan amongst the students when they saw what it was.

"But Professor," Helena whined. "We've done this potion a hundred times."

"And we went through this rigmarole last week, Helena," Alana explained slowly. "NEWTs aren't based on what you learn over the next two years - they cover your entire magical education. So you might walk into your exam and get a potion that you only touched upon in your first year. It'll be easy enough to prepare, but could you remember the properties? The application? The health and safety? No, I don't think so, and that's why we're going to recap them until you're talking, eating, sleeping and breathing these Potions. And judging by the results from your test last week, I'd say we've all got a long way to go."

Helena said nothing, but rolled her eyes when she thought Alana wasn't looking.

"Right - shrinking draught," Alana said, flicking her wand to make a piece of chalk write the words on the chalk board. "Let's see what you remember."

She stuck to her guns and went on with her plan. It made no sense in doing a lesson that might wow and impress the inspector - there were too many things that might go wrong, too many variables she couldn't control. Not to mention the woman would probably see right through it. Alana was there to teach, and she was going to go on doing it as she always had. She'd gotten this far, and done well hadn't she? So there was nothing to be afraid of. Snape thought she was a good teacher, and that was praise indeed. He was a much harsher critic.

Alana forgot the inspector was there after a while, and it was only when the woman started to walk around and interview the students that she became aware of her. But she turned her attention back to helping one of the students with their daisy roots and swallowed down the lump of anxiety sitting in her throat.

"Professor?" someone called out. _Jackson_, Alana realised, recognising the lazy tone. She bristled but kept her calm demeanor and glanced over her shoulder at him.

"What is it?"

"My draught is doing something wierd."

She frowned and walked over to his cauldron to see the mixture bubbling violently, threatening to spill over the sides. It was picking up speed, pulsating rapidly.

"Is it supposed to do that?" he asked dumbly, but when she caught his eye she saw a hint of amusement there. She was about to answer when the potion bubbled loudly and drew back, sucking itself inward like a tsunami before it expanded quickly, threatening to explode and cover the room with purple liquid. Alana quickly extracted her wand and encased the minor explosion in a protective shimmering orb, that rumbled and stretched slightly as the potion hit the sides of it and slid down to collect in the bottom. With another wand flick, the mess, the orb and the potion itself had disappeared, leaving nothing but open mouths and silence.

Alana turned off the heat underneath the empty cauldron and glowered at Jackson, gripping the table tightly.

"What did you do?" she snapped accusingly.

Jackson leant back at the harshness of her question. "Nothing, Professor. I just followed the-"

"Don't give me that," she said over the top of him. "Potions are not something you play pranks with - they're dangerous! You add too much of something and you're dealing with a volatile solution that could kill you or anyone in this room! That's serious Jackson, so you're going to tell me - _what did you do_? You must have added far too much of something."

"Maybe," Jackson said. "It was an accident though. I-I didn't mean to."

"Like hell it was," Alana said, raising her voice. "Circe, you must have dumped the entire lot of ingredients in there to cause a reaction like that."

Jackson looked at his fellow peers for support.

"Right - fifty points from Slytherin and a week's worth of detentions," Alana hissed. "I won't have people messing around in my classroom, not when lives are at stake."

"Excuse me," the inspector said loudly, making Alana turn her head her way. The woman's face was screwed up in a disdainful scowl. "But I hope you're not suggesting this boy did this on purpose."

Alana looked at her sharply. "He did."

"Well, he couldn't have. I was watching him the whole time."

Jackson sighed. "I had my hand up for ages Professor - because I was stuck - but you didn't notice."

"No you did no-" Alana froze suddenly, doubt rushing into her mind like a flood. Had she missed him? Had she subconciously ignored him, because she was worried about what trouble he could cause? Well, he had certainly made trouble, but had it been intentional? Or had she just jumped to a conclusion that had possibly marred her inspection?

"Professor Cross," the inspector said, rather curtly she noticed. "I suggest you continue with your lesson and try and regain control of your class."

Alana's heart sank at her tone. "Jackson, you'll have to pair with Robbie for the rest of the lesson," she managed. He moved his stuff over to the boy next to him obediently.

"Sorry Professor," Jackson said. "It really was an accident. Guess I should be more careful, huh?"

Her doubt dissapated at his expression; he looked too innocent truth be known, and his pointed stare straight into her eyes - unrelenting and challenging - settled it in her mind. He'd planned this. He'd set her up.

"No harm done," she said with a smile, and clenched fists, not breaking eye contact until he turned away. "Carry on class, and we'll test the potions at the end."

Alana walked back to her desk and leant on it briefly, looking up just in time to see the inspector shaking her head and Jackson smirking in Alana's direction.

XXXXX

Jenea closed the door behind her as she came out of the room where they were to be interviewed and winked at Alana, who was sat, head in hands, waiting for her name to be called. "How's it going?" her friend asked.

"I think I have as much chance as surviving a duel with an angry hippogriff, as I do coming out of this inspection without being put on probation," Alana said in a quiet voice.

Jenea shook head. "You'll be fine. And I just spoke to Minister Mott, and he's actually a nice guy. Real laidback."

"Sure he was. Because you didn't call his son out as a cheat."

Her friend opened her mouth to reply but someone called out "Alana Cross" in a loud voice from inside the room Jenea had come from.

"Good luck," whispered Jenea, with a thumbs up and a big grin.

Alana rose slowly and took a deep breath before walkimg towards the door and knocking quietly. "Enter," the inspector drawled, and she stepped inside. The room - another spare classroom - was well lit, with all the torches ablaze on the walls. Mott sat at a desk, with a chair on the other side facing him, a quill scribbling away beside him. He waited patiently for her to walk across the room before he waved a hand at the other chair.

"Please, sit," he said with a smile - the same smile that had made her feel so uneasy that morning.

"Miss Cross," he started when she was seated. "Your mock inspection report was exceedingly impressive and that is praise indeed, as Professor Snape is not at all prone to exaggeration." The quill scratched away, distracting her slightly, and her eyes darted from the parchment to Mott's face.

"No, he isn't."

"That is why I was most surprised by Inspector Moonstern's report this afternoon." he picked up a piece of paper and scanned it with a frown. "Rude to students, laughed at their failures, ignored some and seen to favour others, directly accused one student of deliberately trying to cause harm to others, humiliated him in front of his peers, disrupted the class atmosphere with wild allegations, subject material weak and bores the students..." He sighed and picked up another. "Of course, I was ready to believe this was an isolated incident, perhaps all down to nerves but the student interviews say otherwise. One girl said you constantly belittle her efforts, another said you favour some houses above others, and you isolate students you dislike." He set dowm the papers and steepled his fingers. "This is a very worrying report, Miss Cross."

"I fully expected it to be," Alana told him, finding some courage at last. He quirked an eyebrow.

"And why is that?"

"Come now, Inspector Mott," Alana said reproachfully. "We're both adults. Let's at least be honest and frank with one another."

"I hope you're not suggesting that this report is unfair."

Alana said nothing.

"Do you enjoy teaching, Miss Cross?" he asked after a moment.

"Very much."

"And what do you make of your student's accusations?"

"I think they're unfounded."

Mott looked at her quizically. "You have never belittled a student? Or favoured one over another?"

"Not intentionally," Alana spoke calmly, more calmly than she felt. "But I don't think time-wasters should be allowed to disrupt the work of a student who wants to do well. I happen to teach a lot of students who would like to get away with doing as little as possible and cause as much mischief as they can."

"They are children."

"They're young adults," she corrected through gritted teeth. "And as such need to know what they can and can't get away with. Are you proposing that I teach them that it's ok to cut class, or not do the work...or cheat?" she added accusingly.

Mott's lips curled upwards into a smirk. "Yes, Jackson told me about this. He said you have it in for him, and I'm now inclined to believe him. Which student was it that you launched at today? Remind me?"

Alana paused. "Jackson."

"And you still maintain you don't isolate students?" He smiled to himself.

When Alana didn't answer, Mott went on. "Fact of the matter is Miss Cross," he said with a sickly smile, "regardless of the student, or the circumstances, a teacher must keep their cool, be an example and a pillar of stability. You lost your temper. You should have taken Jackson aside after class, and yet you chose to condemn him - for an error might I add - in front of all his friends."

"Your son put his friends in danger with the stunt he pulled."

"My son has never been particularly good at potions. I apologise for the trouble he caused with his ineptitude, but he cannot be punished for not being as gifted as the others in your class. I would expect a good teacher to recognise that."

Alana stared at him through narrowed eyes, knowing at that moment if she were to say any of the comebacks going through her mind she would do herself no favours.

"I'll try and pay extra attention with Jackson and make sure his practical skills in Potions improve then," she bit out, the words tasting bitter. "Probably the stress of the inspection...my perspective was...askew."

Mott smiled, and waved his wand at the quill so it ceased in its movements. "A good idea. I do believe you have the potential to be an exemplary teacher Miss Cross. You just need to learn to follow guidelines...to pick your fights a little more carefully," he added with a direct look. Alana stiffened; the silence in the room was painful, full of the words unspoken, and her suspicions began to overwhelm her.

Mott rose, checking his pocket watch as he did so. "I trust you'll take my advice, Miss Cross, and there will be no more trouble?"

"I'll try." She offered him a mirthless smile in reply, and extended a hand for him to shake. He did so, with a polite nod, and the second he let go, she turned on her heels and left the room.

She was being paranoid, wasn't she? There was no way that Jackson and his father had set out to destroy her career just because she had called the boy out. Was there? Alana pinched the skin between her eyebrows as she walked back. How far would some people go to remove a problem? And she had made herself a problem with her actions.

A nagging feeling pulled at her mind and she picked up her pace to get to her room, eager to dispel her doubt. She went straight to her desk, pulling out the magical slate Lucius had bought for her some time ago. The reply would be faster than an owl and she had to know, to settle her fears - had everyone been in on this? Had she been doomed to fail from the start? She wrote a quick message to him and sat back in her armchair, waiting for his reply. It was almost instantaneous.

Inspector Moonstern was Jackson's aunt.

Merlin, she'd been completely set up.

The news didn't shock her as much as she thought it would, and instead of flying into a fit of anger, she sat quietly for a long time replaying the day in her mind. There was nothing she could have done to make today run any smoother. The only thing she could have changed was her reaction to Jackson's prank, which - although she was loathed to admit - Augustus had been right about. She'd handled it badly.

_You just need to learn to follow guidelines...to pick your fights a little more carefully. _Mott's words played over and again in her mind, the warning becoming clearer each time. She couldn't gauge from their talk whether or not it was just that - a warning - or whether it was a promise. A promise to make an example of her. She hoped his scheme today had been enough to sate him - he had showed her that he could destroy her job if he wanted. He could have her thrown out, and made to look as if she were petty, with a vendetta. _Weak_. Would he go so far as to put her on probation?

Only time would tell, she thought, ignoring the new message appearing on the slate from Lucius asking if she was ok. She extinguished the only light in the room, and went straight to bed.

XXXXX

The results came through a week later; white envelopes attached to legs several Screecher owls, all adorned with the Ministry wax seal. The NQT's collectively swallowed their breakfast down, which had turned to lead in their mouths and took their letters eagerly, barely pausing before ripping them open. Alana however, stared at it, ominous thing that it was, taking a long deep breath before opening it slowly and pulling out the letter.

"Merlin," Ruth breathed. "I passed."

"Me too," Chester grinned. "Thought for sure I'd be on probation after the awful day I had."

Jenea smiled and showed them her pass letter, and turned to nudge Alana. "What about you, Cross?"

Alana's eyes lifted from the paper, and she offered them a relaxed smile. "Yeah, all fine," she said, putting the letter back in its envelope and tucking it into the pocket of her robes. She was faintly aware of someone's eyes on her and when she glanced up, she caught Professor Snape watching her shrewdly, searching her expression. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she said nothing. Instead she turned to her friends and grinned.

"I've gotta go prep for a class," she explained, rising from her seat. "See you at the Three Broomsticks later to celebrate. First rounds on me," she added as she walked away, smiling at their laughter.

She knew he'd followed her, though she could barely hear his footfall behind her, so it came as no surprise to hear him call out to her on the staircase.

"Professor Cross," he said blankly. "May I see your letter?"

She sighed and turned to him, walking back up, delving her hand into her pocket to yank it out. "Keep it, give it to me later," she said. "I've got to go and get my class work ready."

Snape took it wordlessly and watched as she walked away, a little more quickly than before, and waited until she was out of sight before opening the envelope and glancing over the letter. He stiffened as he read the reply, and gripped it tightly in his hands, scrumpling the paper.

She was on probation.


End file.
